The Oceanic Seventh
by hjr
Summary: This story takes place after the Season Four finale. Walt has gone back to The Island to set things right. This has been proving very difficult for Walt. Now complete.
1. Time to Go Back

The Oceanic Seventh

Disclaimer: I don't own Lost or any of its characters, and am in no way associated with its production.

Summary: This story takes place after the Season Four finale. Walt takes Aaron's place among the Oceanic Six in an attempt to return to The Island and set things right. This will prove rather difficult for Walt.

* * *

Ben and Jack stood solemnly over Locke's coffin. Jack spoke up.

"You honestly mean we have to bring Locke's body back to that island, wherever it is. How do you suggest we accomplish that?"

"You don't think I have a plan?" Ben replied. "You and I are going to replace John with a dummy, and carry him off to a warehouse under my control. The body will be refrigerated until it is ready for transport. If necessary, it will be preserved in formaldehyde. The bigger problem is getting all the Oceanic Six together. Sayid reports that Hurley is reluctant, and the last I heard Sun was not too fond of the idea."

"Kate isn't crazy about the idea, but she may be convinced to go if she can see Sawyer. However, she adamantly refuses to let Aaron go. Claims she had a vision of Claire demanding that, and will blow our story if we try to take Aaron forcibly. Given that, I don't see any hope for this plan. Once her mind is made up, there's no changing it. Are you sure that is the only way to get back to the island?"

Ben paused.

"There is one other way. The Island requires a special person to find it, and there are only three such people on this planet. One is lying dead in this coffin before you, one is Aaron, and the third is…"

"Someone who I doubt very much will cooperate with you. The kidnapping, which made his father go mad and turn into a killer, … "

"No need to enumerate, I admit I might have handled the situation differently. What's done is done, and cannot be undone, … usually, … but returning to the Island may … fix things. Besides those still marooned and dying of the Sickness on the Island, there are wars all over the world, the global economy spiraling out of control, meteorological catastrophes, the deteriorating environment, …"

"Yes, you've explained, mankind's days are likely numbered, and there are an awful lot of things you might have handled better. Do we even know where he lives?"

"Of course, our friend Jeremy Bentham here met him and all the Oceanic Six, and left instructions we have to hope they will follow. It was simple, actually, he is living with a Noreen Dawson in Harlem under the pretext that he is her grandnephew. But enough talk, we should proceed with the plan."

"But … there was a night watchman. How are we getting past him?"

"You didn't get a good look at him, did you? I believe you will find him most accommodating."

Jack looked warily at Ben, but then the night watchman walked into the room. He raised his uniform cap, and Jack gasped as he recognized … Sayid. Sayid didn't speak a word, only nodding to indicate the coast was clear. Jack and Ben took Locke's body out of the coffin, and carried it into the truck Ben had driven there, and placed it in a long freezer. They then hauled in a heavy dummy to replace in the coffin, and Ben snapped it shut. With no more visitors, the coffin and dummy inside were destined for cremation with no one else the wiser. Ben then drove Locke's body to a warehouse Ben had acquired, near the place in which Hurley was ensconced. Jack drove back to his house, bringing a close to the evening of May 29, 2008.

In Jacob's cabin on the Island, Jacob communicated with several spirits.

"You have work to do. It must be done quickly. The Island needs those who left before their time. Begone!"

The spirits scattered, save for Claire, who being newly transformed, insisted that Aaron be spared. Jacob was aware of another possibility that perhaps was more likely to work out.

Sun had a restless day, attempting to acquire more information on Charles Widmore's undertakings. Returning home, she immediately hugged Ji Yeon, now two years and nine months old, who had been left in charge of a top-rate nanny during the day. Cooking herself relaxed Sun, and she prepared their dinner. After the meal, Sun put her daughter to bed, checked some reports on her computer, and retired herself. But she did not sleep well.

Sun was standing in her garden, when an apparition appeared before her. The man's body had several burns, and his clothes were waterlogged.

"Sun … come back … I must see you again … do not let our child grow up without her father."

"J-J-Jin! What must I do?"

"Come back … come back to the Island with the others."

Sun woke up, sitting bolt upright, screaming, "JIIIIINNN!" Her hands were shaking, and within a second Ji Yeon was crying. Sun got up unsteadily and went to her daughter's room, explaining,

"Sorry sweetheart, Mommy just had a bad dream."

Sun went back to bed, thinking, _Jeremy Bentham may have been right after all._

In an isolated building that was somewhat reminiscent of the Santa Rosa institution, Hurley was playing Connect-Four by himself when an opponent seen only to him appeared.

"Hurley … we never had the picnic. Come join me."

"L-L-Libby? Why are you here? Can't you leave me in peace? You're not real."

"Are you sure? Don't you wish you were certain what is real and what is imaginary?"

"I know better. Like I told Sayid, I'm going to stay in places like this for the rest of my life, and not hurt anyone else with my curse."

"You are not cursed, sweet Hurley. And you can regain full control of your mind. You just have to return with the others to the island."

The apparition, who Hurley just noticed had bloodstained clothes, placed a checker into the Connect Four game, completing a four-in-a-row, and vanished.

"YAAAA-AAA-AAAHHH!" Hurley jumped up, his heart racing. He smashed the Connect Four game off the table. _This can't be happening_, he thought. He closed his eyes and counted to five, but no one else was there. _Who am I kidding, that did happen. Like Charlie said it would. Like Mr. Eko said it would._

Hurley calmed down, and picked up the pieces to the game off the floor. Having something to do made him feel better for the moment. A while later he went to bed. His last thought before he fell asleep was, _There is no getting around it. Jeremy Bentham may be right._

Kate had a hard time putting Aaron to sleep this night, and shortly thereafter fell asleep herself. In the middle of the night, a long-forgotten image entered her dreams.

"Katherine Austen … I must speak with you."

Kate was quite addled, mostly asleep, but haunted by the bloodied figure.

"A-A-Ana? Lucia? How … what?"

"Kate … I made a promise to two children that they would see their mother again. I have been unable to keep that promise. We need your help."

"Me? What can I do?"

"Yes you. You are a mother now, or at least acting like one. You know how it feels. These children, Emma and Zack, must see their mother, and the only way that can happen is for you to come back to the Island with the others."

"NO! I must …" Kate woke up, trembling. Aaron had started crying, and Kate rushed over to calm him down. The child, now three years, seven months old, asked,

"What's wrong, mommy?"

Kate wasn't sure how to answer.

"I … might have to go away for a few days, and you could stay at Grandma's. I don't know yet. But always remember that Mommy loves you."

Kate kissed Aaron, and the little boy looked sad, but then went back to sleep. Kate had been referring to Jack's mother, Margo Shephard, as she didn't know who else to turn to. She went back to her bed, regretfully admitting, _Jeremy Bentham was probably right after all. __But I can't leave Aaron, can I? What should I do?_

Haunted by guilt, Kate agonized over her decision while sleeping fitfully the rest of the night.

Walt would be finished with the eighth grade in two weeks. He had been very quiet the past three and a half years, making few friends. His main form of social activity had been venting energy in pickup basketball games. This night seemed like most others, with his grandmother insisting Walt study for finals, and Walt listlessly complying. After he went to bed, he tossed and turned, and had an unexpected dream. A tall blonde young woman, also with bloody clothing was calling.

"Walt … you left Vincent with me … it's time to pick him up. You must come back to the Island."

"Sh-Shannon? Vincent? How? I thought Vincent was dead," Walt muttered mostly asleep, clutching his pillow tightly.

"Shannon is right." An image of Michael stepped into Walt's vision. "Vincent is here, longing for you, and only you can save him."

"D-Dad? What happened to you?"

Michael's body was covered with burns, his clothes shredded, and his face disfigured.

"That is not important. I made many mistakes. It was too soon to take you off the Island. However, things can be rectified, but only if you return with the others."

"NOOOOOOOOO!" Walt screamed, jumping out of bed and finding himself saturated in perspiration. His heart pounded as his grandmother came in.

"Oh Walt, the nightmares again? I was really hoping you were over those. What was it this time?"

Walt had never told his grandmother the events on the island, and had done a pretty good job of blocking them off in his memory.

"I'm sorry, but I just got the feeling that Dad is definitely dead. I'll be all right."

Noreen Dawson, long convinced that Michael was dead, looked at Walt, not really believing him, but there wasn't much anyone could do.

"I'm afraid if your father was alive he would have paid us a visit a long time ago. It's late, go back to bed. But you can't sleep in those clothes now, change first. And remember, the last thing he told me was that he will always love you."

Grandma sighed, feeling sorry for Walt, and went back to her bedroom. Walt changed into a clean tee shirt and shorts after drying off with a towel. He lay awake a long time before finally getting to sleep, thinking, _Jeremy Bentham was right. I should have known._


	2. Assembling the Troops

Ben gathers the Oceanic survivors together through some trickery, and has a memorable first encounter with Walt after his release.

* * *

As Sayid was more trusted than Ben, Ben had Sayid send messages to the Oceanic Six plus Walt over the next few days. They were going to meet on Saturday, June 7. Kate was the lone holdout, not being able to bear leaving Aaron behind. Ben had a couple more ideas in mind. He forged an official looking letter from the California State's Attorney's Office.

"Dear Ms. Austen,

Due to matters recently brought to our attention we require you and the child with whom you are living, to report to the County Hospital on Monday, June 9, 2008 for DNA testing. A normally reliable source is questioning who the child's biological parents really are."

There was another force at work though. The ghost of Ana-Lucia informed Jacob that Kate was not convinced, and on June 4 Jacob sent another spirit, this one to appear in Aaron's dream.

"Hello, Aaron."

In his semi-conscious state Aaron did not understand what was going on.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Boone. Do not be scared. I passed on so that you could come into the world."

"What does that mean? I took your place?"

"That is correct in a way. But what I have come here to tell you is that your mother must leave you for a few days, so that our friends, people who know you, and are sick now, will get better. You can stay with your grandmother; she will take care of you. If your mother does not go, our friends will get sicker, like this."

The image of Boone started to deteriorate from a handsome young man into the one suffering numerous injuries from his fatal fall, but he vanished before it got too scary for the young child. The next morning, Aaron informed Kate,

"It's okay if you go away for a few days. I'll be fine with Grandma."

Kate was shocked. "Darling, why do you say that?"

"A nice man told me so. Bob ... no Boone."

"Boone! How ... you mean you saw in a dream?"

"I guess so. Are you mad, Mommy?"

Kate was disconcerted, but was realizing, "_If I don't go, they'll take Aaron from me. I have to believe in Ben to set things right. I don't want to, but I have no choice_."

Now speaking, Kate replied, "No dear, I'm not mad. I don't want to leave you, but I have to help a lot of other people, and this is the only way. Mommy loves you." Kate hugged and kissed Aaron, and made the arrangements for Aaron to stay at Margo's house.

On Saturday, June 6, the plan was set in motion. Kate had left Aaron at Margo's house, and then let Jack drive her to the building in which Hurley was located. Sun had flown across the Pacific under the guise of an ordinary business trip, and took a taxi driven by Ben himself to the common destination. Getting Walt there was more problematical. Walt made up a story to his grandmother, saying that as he and his classmates had just finished finals, they would be celebrating all weekend. Noreen thought that it would be good for Walt to spend more time with children his age, and welcomed the idea.

However, Walt met with Sayid a few blocks from the Dawson residence, drove him to a small airport across the Hudson in New Jersey, and then flew a private plane across the country. Ben had seen to it that all the flight plans were approved. Before going, Walt had written a note to his grandmother Noreen and left it under his pillow, where she would find it Sunday or Monday when doing the wash.

Dear Grandma,

I'm sorry it had to be this way, but it is the only way to set things right. You deserve to know the truth. The plane Dad and I were on crashed onto an island in the South Pacific, and there were more than fifty survivors originally. The story about the Oceanic Six is a lie, but it was done to protect those people who are still on the island. I have now found out that I must return there, with the adults of the Oceanic Six, in order to save those still there. I won't be able to live with myself otherwise.

Dad did everything he could to get us off that island. He built a raft, and I was a jerk and burned it because I wanted to stay. He built a second, and we left on that, but I was kidnapped by a group of people who had been living on the island. They locked me in a room and did lots of tests on me, and to be honest, it was physical and psychological torture. Dad went crazy, and made a deal to get me released, but had to betray some of our friends to do that, and killed two people in the process. I was very mad at him when I found out, but I have grown since then and understand better the terrible psychological pressure he was under. He was told that I would be killed if he didn't cooperate. He was a good man at heart, and couldn't deal with the all the horrible things that had happened and that no one should be subjected to.

It turns out that my mother was rather evil. Dad had sent me pictures for my birthday since I was two, but she hid them from me. She actually threw them away, but my wonderful nanny saved them. I know this may sound bad but I'm glad Mom died, because if she hadn't, I never would have gotten to know Dad. We actually were getting along well the last couple weeks before my kidnapping, and I know he would have been a good father if that hadn't happened.

A friend of mine, whose real name is John Locke, found me in the park a couple weeks ago and explained why I must return now. I have complete faith in him, and he saved my life on the island when I got mad at Dad and ran away with Vincent, and was almost killed by a polar bear. It turns out some crazy animal experiments had been performed on the island a long time ago. He just passed away, and his name was given as Jeremy Bentham.

Please keep this letter a secret until I return. A lot of lives, not just the ones on the island, are at stake. Terrible things will happen all around the world, perhaps even the end of mankind in a few years' time, if we can't do this. Please trust me on this.

Love,

Walt

Sayid and Walt were the last to arrive at Hurley's location. However, in order to get Walt to come along willingly, Sayid had neglected to tell Walt that Ben would be present. When Walt saw Ben, he grimaced. A flood of pent-up anger built up within Walt. Ben immediately got down to business and started to speak,

"I'm glad you could all make it today. Now we have to …"

Walt had surreptitiously drawn closer to Ben, and without warning, delivered a punch to the left side of Ben's jaw with an astonishing force for one Walt's size. Ben staggered back, and prepared to defend himself, but Sayid and Jack grabbed Walt's arms before the attack could continue.

"What are you doing here!?" shouted Walt. "You ruined my life! You wrecked my Dad's life, turned him into a monster, and those two people he killed trying to rescue me. You deserve to rot for all eternity!"

Ben rubbed his aching jaw, and from his reaction Jack thought he'd better look at it.

"Why, it's dislocated. We should take you to a hospital to have that set."

"There's no time, Jack," replied Ben. "Just pop it back into place the best you can."

"All right, if you insist." Jack held Ben's head, and gave a shot to Ben's jaw, causing Ben to groan in agony. Walt got a small measure of satisfaction in that.

Sayid spoke up: "Walt, I'm afraid we didn't tell you that we need Ben for this. We weren't sure how you'd react, or if you'd come at all. But you already jeopardized the mission."

"Enough," interrupted Ben. "Walter, I …" this was very difficult for Ben, who hated admitting mistakes. "I have to apologize to you. Had I known three and a half years ago what I know now, I would have handled things differently. Please keep in mind that everything I did I believed I was doing in the best interest of the Island. And keeping the Island safe benefits the whole human race."

Walt was not in a forgiving mood.

"Just let's get on with this."

"Very well," replied Ben, "we do not have time to waste. If you would all follow me."

Ben led the group down a corridor, unlocked a door, and entered a rather cool room. He pushed a button, and out from the wall emerged a coffin on a slab, with a large globe on top. Cutting off the questions, Ben announced, "the person in there is exactly who you think is in there. Now all of us much touch the coffin simultaneously." Ben led by example.

Kate, Sun, and Hurley had been quiet, and generally miserable. Jack and Sayid helped them to the coffin. Walt was the last to approach, reluctantly agreeing to this while thinking, "_I'm doing this for you, Mr. Locke."_

As Walt touched the coffin, the globe started to tremble, then spin. It had two degrees of freedom of movement, allowing for any possible orientation. In about a minute it had settled, with a marker at the bottom, closest to the coffin, indicating a point.

"Forty-two degrees, twenty-three minutes east longitude, eight degrees, sixteen minutes south latitude – ladies and gentlemen, our Island is in the Indian Ocean, well off the east coast of Tanzania, north of the Comoros and west of the Seychelles."

"Forty-two … nooo!" Hurley freaked at hearing several of the Numbers, and bolted out the door. Sayid and Jack had to catch up with him, but their service in the refrigerated room was complete. The group reassembled in the outer room in which they had first met.

Ben spoke once more. "We leave immediately. The plane Sayid brought Walt here on has been refueled, but more importantly, it has been fitted with some rather recent and top-secret stealth technology. Sayid is fully capable of piloting it. We have plenty of food, and a system that will keep the coffin sufficiently cool in the cargo hold."


	3. Flight to a Sick Island

Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews! I should be inspired enough to write a chapter per week.

Our heroes fly back to the Island, while events there the past few months are revealed.

________________________________________________________________________

The Oceanic Six, minus Aaron and plus Walt, and Ben boarded the stealth aircraft. With Sayid at the helm, and Ben in the co-pilot's seat, the aircraft sped across the Pacific. Ben reasoned that they were less likely to be detected over the expanse of the ocean than over land. The destination was close to half way around the globe from where they started.

On the flight, Hurley suddenly remembered something.

"Hey Walt, I forgot, I owe you eighty-three thousand dollars from backgammon. Remind me write you a check when we get back. Sorry I forgot earlier."

Walt was incredulous. "We weren't playing for real money. I certainly couldn't have paid you if I had lost. Forget it."

"No, I insist. The money has brought me nothing but bad luck. Take it, move into a better house, save it for your college education – just do something useful with it."

"I don't think my grandmother would let me keep it. Maybe for college … but if we go public I should get a settlement from Oceanic."

"Then consider it for your college education. And if it isn't enough, I want to provide all you need. You deserve it."

Walt let it go at that, with something other than college on his mind.

Sayid landed the plane for refueling on an uninhabited island in the midst of the Marshall Islands. By that time it was night there, and all aboard had to get some sleep for the big next day. The following morning, Sayid again took off, and several hours later was nearing the target.

"You have to approach the Island at a bearing of 305 degrees," commented Ben.

"305? What about the 325 you told my father and me about?" demanded Walt.

"325 degrees is the bearing required to depart the island. It isn't a symmetric relationship," Ben calmly replied.

Sayid navigated the plane according to the instructions, and the island came into view as they broke through some clouds. But something was amiss. While there shouldn't have been any sailing vessels nearby, a large freighter was a few hundred meters offshore.

"Wdimore!" exclaimed Ben. "How could he have found out?"

"Sayid, quick, veer off before they see us!"

Sayid did as instructed, but warned,

"It may be too late. If we could see them, they could have seen us. Perhaps not by radar, but by visual contact. Also, this jet leaves a vapor trail that might be followed."

"Just do it, we have to try!" commanded Ben. "We can try to find out what happened later."

The survivors had gathered to listen to Daniel Faraday's announcement the day after the Island had moved. Assembled were Sawyer, Locke, Juliet, Rose, Bernard, Miles, Charlotte, Richard Alpert, and a few more Others.

"This is hard to believe, but I've double- and triple-checked my calculations," began Daniel. "We all felt some kind of motion. I thought I could determine the latitude and longitude of our location based on the angle of the sun and the times of sunrise and sunset based on my wristwatch, which never stopped running.

"However, the night sky was all wrong. Jupiter was in the constellation of Virgo, but now it is in Scorpio. Saturn was in Gemini, but now it is in Leo. This combination is consistent with us moving forward in time, nearly three years. Based on the phase of the moon, I can only say that I believe we are now at a time 1,080 days later, from December 30, 2004, to December 15, 2007."

"Say what?' exclaimed Sawyer. "You're right, it is impossible to believe."

Locke remained calm, accepting the situation. "You have to believe the evidence, James. I'm sure a few days ago you would have believed it impossible for our island to move at all, much less this far. By the way Daniel, did you figure out where we are?"

"I believe so. In view of what I believe to be the date, we should be very near latitude four degrees south and longitude forty-two degree east, which places us in the Indian Ocean, a few hundred kilometers east of Africa."

The survivors looked at each other, not wanting to believe, but having some sense that the physicist was right.

"I'm quite sure you'll find Mr. Faraday's calculations accurate. This movement through time and space is consistent with theoretical results we have obtained. And now, I believe the island wishes for Mr. Locke to lead us through the next phase of our lives."

"I shall do my best," responded Locke. "But it may be difficult. The Island, did not want those who left to do so, and there may be repercussions out of our control."

As Locke feared, the next several months were not kind to the remaining islanders. Rose's cancer returned, and Bernard went into a deep depression. Many others fell ill despite Juliet's best efforts. Richard understood what was happening: The Sickness had returned. One hundred eight days after the Island moved, on April 16, 2008, Locke announced,

"We have to face facts, we are all dying here. I'm going back to the outside world, and contact Ben. It is our only hope. This is not without risk, and there is no guarantee of success, I must try. I shall leave the Island the way Ben did, through the Orchid, but can leave the Island here. Richard has informed me how to do this: I will push the donkey wheel one way, and once on the other side push it back the same amount in the other direction. I am the only one among us whom the Island will permit to attempt this, and it would not allow this before today. Farewell, my friends."

Locke did as he indicated, emerging in a desert. He climbed a dune, and saw a trail of hoof prints. He followed them several kilometers to a village, and with hand gestures got directions to a larger town, where he hitched a ride on a jeep to a city with an airport, paying with a supply of cash furnished by Richard. Locke's story was that he had parachuted out of an airplane that had suffered irreparable damage in mid-flight, but as long as he was able to pay his way, few questions were asked.

However, at the moment Locke transported, the Island's protective magnetic field went down for a few seconds. This was enough for a satellite put into space by the Widmore Corporation to detect the island, and determine its coordinates.

Eventually Locke made his way to the location Ben had told him to go to in case this scenario played out. With the appropriate medical facilities, Ben examined Locke, and could tell that Locke had but a few weeks to live. In that time, Locke had visited Jack, Kate, Sun, Hurley, and Walt, and explained the necessity of returning to the Island. None of them initially wanted to return, but changed their minds upon visits by the spirits of the deceased passengers.

Despite knowing the Island's location, Charles Widmore had a hard time actually finding it. Flybys produced nothing but open water time and time again. Magnetic fields, continually interfered with navigation. Eventually, though, by trying approaching the Island by many different angles, the correct one was found.

"So what now?" asked Jack, as the stealth airplane sped away from the Island.

"There has been a change of plans," replied Ben. "You should know me well enough by now that I would have a plan in reserve."


	4. Backup Plan

Ben reveals his backup plan as the Oceanics desperately try to outrun Widmore's forces.

________________________________________________________________________

"Silly me. Of course you have a backup plan. Would you care to fill us in on it?" Jack asked Ben.

"There is another way back to the Island. We will go back the way Mr. Locke came from. He turned a donkey wheel under the Orchid Station. That opened a portal and moved the Island through space … and time. As Locke may have told you, the island moved ahead in time nearly three years. We have to reverse the process: turn the wheel in the opposite direction and go back to the point after Keamy and his forces were defeated. With the freighter destroyed, and the jamming mechanisms back in place, Widmore wouldn't be able to find the Island, and all the ensuing tragedy would be prevented."

The Oceanics exchanged glances.

"Does this mean we will relive these past three years?" enquired Sun.

"It's hard to say exactly what will happen, but in a manner of speaking, I believe that statement is essentially accurate. The Island and the rest of the world may occupy two distinct time lines. We can't be sure exactly what will happen, but we can be sure it will be a disaster if we don't try."

"The chance to live the past three years over … that's okay by me," contributed Hurley. There was nothing good about them."

"I have to agree with that," added Sayid.

It was also fine with Jack and Walt. Kate looked apprehensive. _More years on the run?_ She thought about Aaron, and Claire, and waves of guilt overcame her. Kate would go along.

"There is another thing," remarked Ben. Locke told me of a fascinating conversation he had with Daniel Faraday, about time travel. This isn't an exact science, but Daniel was quite convinced that it would be very useful to have a "constant", someone you know before and after the points in time you are traveling between. It is preferable to have this constant over as long a time period as possible. Now, I don't believe any of you knew each other before the crash of Oceanic 815, is that right?"

The Oceanics exchanged glances, and shook their heads.

"That's what I thought," continued Ben. "How about in the airport before the flight? Or on the plane itself? A relationship before the traumatic crash would be preferable. Did any of you talk to each other?"

There was another round of silence. Then Hurley broke it.

"I remember seeing Walt playing with his video game before we took off. For some reason it cheered me up to see a child playing. It broke up the monotony of my continuous bad luck."

Hurley chuckled despite himself.

"Though I made that flight by like zero seconds. The flight attendant told me it was my lucky day."

"I remember that!" piped up Walt. "You were the last one on the plane, and you gave me a thumbs up sign when you passed by in the aisle. You were cool, man. Not like my Dad at the time."

"Thanks, dude."

"Any other interactions on the flight?" enquired Ben. "You never know what will be important."

There was more shaking of heads.

"I was thinking only about Jin the whole time," contributed Sun.

"And I was kind of stuck with that marshal," added Kate.

Jack thought. "The person I spoke to most was Rose."

"That could be useful if you run into Rose in the past. Keep that in mind."

It was Sayid's turn. "I believe I noticed all of you, but never spoke or word nor made any sort of gesture. I'm afraid that might not be any help."

"Possibly not, but we can't be sure," answered Ben. "We need every advantage we can possibly get."

Sayid paused, and then asked,

"So where are we heading?"

Sayid had reversed course to get out of range.

"We have to circle around to the north, and then proceed northwest. The exact coordinates are, please brace yourself, Hurley, latitude sixteen degrees, forty-two minutes, fifteen seconds north and longitude twenty-three degrees, four minutes, eight seconds east."

"Figures." Hurley was expecting something like that now. "So where is that?"

"You might say it is in the middle of the Sahara Desert. Technically the location is in northeastern Chad. The nearest settlement is several kilometers away, a semi-nomadic tribe called the Toubou. This will take a few hours, so I suggest you get some rest."

************************************************************************

"Sir! Aircraft sighted!" reported a lookout on Charles Widmore's freighter."

_Ben. I knew he would come, _immediately thought Widmore. "After them, now!"

Like Ben, Widmore had the resources to have his own supersonic jets. The deck on the freighter was cleared to form a runway like that of an aircraft carrier, and within minutes three very fast planes were in pursuit. Two of them were equipped with military-style weaponry, while the third was actually similar to Ben's. After Widmore ordered the remaining freighter crew to hold their position, he boarded the third plane, which trailed the first two by several kilometers.

"Do you have them?" demanded Widmore of the pilots of the first two jets.

"They got quite a bit of a lead, but we can track their vapor trail, replied one pilot. "It's warmer than the surrounding air, and …"

"I know how it works. Just don't lose them. Catch up with them as fast as possible, and force them back to the freighter. I'm certain the Oceanic Six are aboard, and I need them and Linus to break through whatever field that is that is shielding that island."

The freighter crew had detected the same kind of magnetic field anomalies in this part of the Indian Ocean that had permeated the atmosphere of the Island in its original location. However, there was something different, and the Island had remained hidden from view. Attempts to sail toward the expected location consistently met with currents that drove them away. Widmore was certain that Ben knew the secret on how to gain access to the mysterious isle, and believed that it required the presence of those who had been on it previously.

"We must take the Oceanics, dead or alive. The chances are better if they are alive, so try to take their plane without damaging it so much that they can't make some sort of landing."

Widmore's planes streaked across the Indian Ocean, and then over Tanzania, Uganda, and Sudan. It took several hours for them to close the gap, but those planes were faster than Ben's, and over Chad they finally caught up.

"We have visual contact, sir!" reported a pilot.

"Excellent. Force them down and prepare to take prisoners."

************************************************************************

Rest did not come easily, but everyone was jolted awake at the sound of shots. Kate jumped up.

"Gunfire! How ..."

Kate looked out the windows.

"They're two of them! Can we shoot them down?"

Ben was alarmed. "We might take one down, but it's not at all likely given their advantageous position, and the other would kill us all for sure. Sayid, status report!"

Sayid looked glum. "Not good. They've punctured our fuel tank, and we're going to have to land in a few minutes. At this rate we can just make it to the coordinates, but we'd be sitting ducks."

"Is this it, then?" asked Jack warily. "If we can't get to the portal without Widmore knowing about it, we've lost?"

Ben looked devastated, then took a deep breath.

"I do have one last plan. It's a long shot, a true last resort, but it's our only chance now."


	5. Plan of Last Resort

Ben describes his emergency plan and the Islanders prepare for Widmore's arrival.

________________________________________________________________________

"Sayid, change course for that nearest Toubou village." Ben supplied the coordinates.

"We are going in for something of a crash landing. Widmore and his operatives of course know what the Oceanic Six look like, and will capture us, dead or alive. However, there is one thing he does not know. Walt has kept his identity hidden from the outside world these past three and a half years, and Widmore believes Walt perished on the Island. Walt, you must pretend to be a native for a few seconds. When the plane hits, I will throw a smoke bomb that will obscure us all. When Walt comes out, Widmore's crew must think Walt is a Chad villager."

Walt was stunned. "How can I pass for a native?"

"I have thought of that. Boys your age wear only a rough leather skirt, like this."

Ben pulled out a dull red piece of cloth-like material from an overhead compartment. It reminded Walt of a garment Masai boys wore at times.

"Walt, please strip and put this on while I explain what you have to do. It has a pocket for this locator, a global positioning system."

Walt stood dumbfounded, gaping at the red skirt as the plane lost altitude at an alarming rate. Widmore's planes took positions on either side, ready to shoot the Oceanics' plane down completely if fired upon.

"Hurry up, Walt, change behind the last row of seats if you must. We have very little time."

Jack put his hand on Walt's shoulder and reassured,

"You have to do this Walt. Ben knows what he is doing, and we're all counting on you."

Walt shook his head and stepped to the back, quickly shedding his clothes, and forcing the skirt over his hips. Once in place, it fit very well, coming down to just above his knees.

Ben continued, "Sayid, land this plane as close to the village as possible."

"I can see it now, Ben."

"Good. Such a spectacle as a plane crash is certain to attract the villagers' attention. Now when we land, I will throw this smoke bomb into a group of villagers, preferably containing boys Walt's size. Walt will enter the smoke, and when it clears, act like a native for a few seconds, then sneak away."

Walt emerged from the back in his new outfit.

"I feel ridiculous in this. And will this really work?"

Ben looked at Walt. "It will work if you try. Any native could tell you're not one of them if they looked at you for a second, but Widmore's people will never know the difference. They won't be looking for you, and we'll surrender in a position away from you. While everyone is looking at us, you must make your escape. Be sure not to attract any attention to yourself.

We should be within ten kilometers of the target when we land, but it will be a hike in blazing heat, so Walt, drink all the water you can in the next few minutes while you listen."

Walt didn't like the sound of that, but started gulping down water bottles from a cooler.

Hurley offered some encouragement. "You look all right in that, Walt. A lot better than I would."

Walt had to agree with that, and gave a short, weak smile in response.

Ben continued,

"Walt, when you get to the coordinates, there will be a ladder going down. You may have to dig down into the sand to reach it. Then it is going to be cold for a short while. It can't be helped; I'm afraid Mr. Locke and I didn't think of leaving warm clothing there. There will be a single corridor that leads to a donkey wheel – a wheel two meters in diameter with eight spokes extending past the circular rim so that they can be pushed or pulled. You must turn this counterclockwise, as seen from above, half a complete rotation.

This will bring you to the other side. Go along the corridor, and at the end will be an elevator. Take it up, and you will be in a station called the Orchid. If the air outside smells at all bad, stay inside until it's breathable. Then find a man named Richard, and tell him everything."

"How do I find this guy?"

"He will most likely be at the village, but the Island, and specifically Jacob, will let you know if you need help."

"The rest of you, we will need to create a distraction to help Walt avoid detection. Fake injuries, make noise, but don't do anything that might make Widmore's men shoot you. They have us out-manned and out-powered, so be careful."

"Now I have to make an important radio telephone call."

Ben dialed a satellite phone, which caused a signal to bounce off a satellite in a key position to a receiver on the Island. Richard Alpert answered the top-secret secure line.

"Ben, what is it?"

"Bad news, Richard. Widmore has located us, and shot our plane. We're going to crash, and realistically we don't have the firepower to defeat his fleet. In all probability he will capture us, the five adult Oceanics and myself, and that will be enough to let him find the access. You have to evacuate the Island, and make it uninhabitable."

"We've seen Widmore's freighter from the mountains, but they haven't figured out the way in yet. Now about the poison gas – we can set it off, but we lost a bit of the reactants when the Island shifted. There is enough to keep the atmosphere poisoned for 24 to 48 hours, and then it will dissipate. And the atmosphere will barely be lethal; most animal life, the little there is of it, will likely survive."

Ben frowned. "We have to do what we can. We have one more chance – The Special One may be able to move the Island on his own. If you meet him you know what to do. Now on with the plan, and good luck."

************************************************************************

Richard explained the situation to Daniel and Charlotte, and the latter two, weakened by the spreading Sickness, did not put up an argument. They went to the Tempest, and reactivated the countdown sequence to mix the chemicals that would create a noxious gas cloud. The timer was put on an eight-hour delay.

Back at the village, Richard explained the latest developments.

"Evacuate now?" protested Sawyer. "You said before that we'd be sitting ducks for that Widmore creep."

"That is still true, but this is our only hope to save ourselves and the Island. Ben will probably be brought here, and we might be able to come up with something then. There is one other hope – Walt may be able to move this Island, out of Widmore's grasp, and then we would access to our former medical facilities."

The remaining islanders walked to the coast and piled into a few small boats that were routinely hidden. They aimed to miss the freighter, but the ocean currents might have other ideas.

**************************************************************************

The plane continued its descent, reasonably in control. When it got to a few meters above the ground, Ben instructed,

"Now brace yourselves everybody, we're about to land!"


	6. New Chadian Native

The plane crash lands and Ben's emergency plan goes into effect.

________________________________________________________________________

The airplane hit the ground within a hectometer of the Toubou village, sending sand flying all over. The passengers spilled out of a damaged door, and as Sun screamed as a diversion, Ben lobbed a smoke bomb toward two approaching village boys, within a couple years of Walt's age on either side, and clad only in dull red skirts as expected. The bomb went off, and Walt sprinted into the middle of the smoke.

The two lead jets under Widmore's command landed with top-notch precision a short distance away. Dozens of armed men poured out and descended upon the Oceanics' position. Outnumbered by approximately fifty to six, Ben steeled his nerves and remained calm as an officer from the first jet approached and demanded,

"Linus! Are you all going to come quietly, or do we have to do this the hard way?"

Ben acted as he was thinking for a few seconds, buying whatever time he could for Walt, and responded,

"We'll go quietly. Please don't hurt these innocent villagers; they have no idea what is going on. But careful, we have some injuries."

Kate lay on the ground holding her leg, with Jack and Sun looking at it. Hurley muttered, sitting on the sand, while Sayid, last out since he was the pilot, growled at having to surrender so readily.

"You're one short!" bellowed Widmore's agent. "It's the Oceanic Six, and there are only five of you here. Where's the baby?"

"We found an alternative," replied Ben. "We didn't want to jeopardize an infant, so we … borrowed the body of John Locke. He's in a refrigerated container in the cargo hold. We may need some assistance in transporting it."

The officer radioed Widmore with the news, and Widmore instructed him to bring the container on board one of the jets. Widmore's own plane arrived a few minutes later, spraying a chemical by the other jets that temporarily hardened the sand long enough to act as a runway. As the Oceanics were brought at gunpoint into that jet, Ben told the villagers in their language to do what they wanted with the wreckage of his crashed plane. Once on board, the Oceanics were strapped into seats, and then the three supersonic jets reversed course, heading straight for the Island.

As Ben had predicted, everyone was focused on the crash landing, and no one paid any attention to Walt when the smoke cleared from around him. He coughed to duplicate the actions of the two other boys who were enveloped by the smoke, but now were gawking at the scene like everyone else. Walt stealthily walked behind a structure, and then around a small hill, and kept going until past a second hill he was out of sight of the village. He pulled out the locator from the waistband of his red Toubou skirt: latitude sixteen degrees, forty minutes north and longitude twenty-three degrees, seven minutes east. He would have to go about eight kilometers to the northwest.

Looking in his intended direction, Walt saw only sand. The sand appeared orange-red in the bright light, and was uncomfortably hot on Walt's feet. He admired the natives for having grown accustomed to these hostile conditions. It felt strange at first plodding along in nothing but the native skirt, but its practicality quickly became obvious. Within minutes his body became soaked with perspiration due to the oppressive heat, made tolerable by a light breeze and the low humidity. Any more clothing would have been saturated with sweat in minutes, and lugging the extra weight would have proved impossible. He found it easier to keep the locater in the skirt's pouch rather than holding it, and judged his direction by the position of the sun after getting a good start in the right direction.

Having no choice, he kept up a steady pace, close to as fast as he could walk without raising his exertion level dramatically. The kilometers passed, and after two hours he was within a kilometer of his target. He paused at the top of a small dune to catch his breath, and turned around slowly, taking in the scenery. The solitude was overwhelming. Several kilometers from any other living thing, half-naked, and with just a small locator to help him find his destination. And the fate of the world possibly on his shoulders.

_Is this for real? Everything depends on me, alone in the middle of the Sahara? How did this happen?_

Walt took another reading, and set off down the dune. But shortly thereafter, the wind picked up, hitting Walt in the face. It was a minor nuisance at first, but then it quickly picked up in intensity. Soon the wind was whirling all around Walt, flinging grains of sand against his largely exposed body. He covered his face with his forearms out of necessity, but the stinging of the sand against his chest and stomach made it too difficult to continue. He tried walking backwards, finding that letting the grains hit his back was a small improvement, but not a long-term solution. It felt like hundreds, even thousands of insects biting.

_Guess the people who live around here have good houses to keep out these sandstorms._

Unable to remove his arms from his face to see where he was going, Walt realized he would have to wait out the storm somehow. He managed to reach the side of a dune not quite two meters high, and by kneeling down at the edge of it with his butt on his feet, found that it prevented a lot of the sand from hitting him. Still, the violence of the wind caused the dune to shift, and sand spilled over the top, and began to cover Walt. He kept his eyes closed until he felt sand settle against his stomach and back above the waist of the skirt.

_Wonderful. If I'm not careful I could be buried alive._

With some effort Walt rose to his feet, now finding himself standing knee-deep in the sand. This was a relief, as his legs were no longer being pelted by the annoying pellets. Unfortunately as he checked his position some sand got in his eyes, and that was worse than being hit anywhere else on his body. He rubbed his eyes, and in a few seconds got the tiny grains out, but resolved to be more careful. He kept his eyes shut with his arms still in front of this face and concentrated on breathing through his nose to keep sand from getting into his mouth. The sand was now mainly hitting his sides, but with not as much intensity as before.

_I can keep this up until the storm ends._

Conserving his strength, Walt held still for the next fifteen minutes. He was being hit less frequently, and decided the sandstorm was abating. Then he felt that odd sensation again, the sand nestling in around his body at waist level. He opened his eyes, and was shocked to see that his skirt had disappeared from view, and that his upper body appeared to be growing out of the sand. He tried to raise his legs, one at a time, but the sand had packed in too tightly, like an avalanche. He turned his head to look behind him, and the top of the dune had shifted but was no higher than his head, so he shouldn't be buried completely if the storm kept up. But taking a look came with a price.

"Owww!"

Multiple grains of sand struck Walt's eyes. He was in too much pain to dig himself out, and concentrated on restoring his vision. He blinked several times, and tears welled up, washing the pesky grains away, albeit more slowly than Walt would have liked. Not wanting to repeat his mistake, he kept his eyes covered, although he could feel the sand rise slowly up his body. But the higher it piled up around him, the better he felt, as fewer grains were striking him. He realized he couldn't dig himself out with his arms over his face, and if he left his face exposed, the pain was too much to bear. Therefore he decided to simply wait until the winds died down. And if they didn't, he didn't care. He had tried his best, and if it wasn't good enough so be it.


	7. Walt Versus the Sahara

Walt fights to escape a sandy grave, while Widmore waits for the Island to become inhabitable.

________________________________________________________________________

The sandstorm continued unabated as the sun set. When Walt felt the sand reach his armpits, he realized he was in deep trouble and made one more attempt to extricate himself. Unfortunately, the moment he moved his arms from his face, whipping sand pelted it painfully, and he had to move his arms back. He placed one forearm on top of the other right in front of his face to give himself some breathing room. Several minutes later Walt's world went quiet, the reason being that the sand had covered his ears. Out of energy, Walt now felt at peace, and fell asleep in a position where he could breathe through his nose in a small space between his arms.

* * *

Widmore's stealth supersonic jets sped undetected across the African desert, into the darkness, back over Chad, Sudan, Uganda, Kenya, Tanzania, and over the Indian Ocean. They reached the freighter shortly after dawn. Looking out the window, Ben was crestfallen to see the Island. _Walt failed. Or perhaps he wasn't able to reach the portal before dark. Must not give up hope_. The mere presence of the Oceanic Six, without Aaron but with Locke's body and Ben, was sufficient to bring the Island into view from a vantage point as close as the freighter, just about fifteen kilometers distant.

As the sun rose, several speedboats shot forth from the freighter in pursuit of the remaining islanders. Much better armed than the survivors, a few warning shots were sufficient for the freighter crew to round up all who had remained up to the previous day. In short order Widmore had all his opponents held prisoner in several cabins on his large ship. In triumph, he boarded one of the speedboats, eagerly anticipating setting foot on his prize, when he and the crew had to turn back due to the choking fumes.

"What have you done!" Widmore bellowed at Ben.

"How could I have done anything? It appears the Island does not wish you around it. If anything, I imagine our friend Locke is the one responsible."

Widmore didn't believe Ben, but wasn't entirely sure how the Island responded to certain people who had been on it.

"You're crazy! But … all right, tell him to stop, or your friends are going to suffer."

"Very well, take me to him."

Under armed guard, Widmore took Ben to the galley freezer where Locke's coffin had been stored. After Widmore opened the door, Ben put his hand on the coffin, and acted like he was concentrating. Aloud, he spoke,

"It's no use, John, you may as well give it up."

Ben remained silent for several seconds, while he thought, _John, Walt needs help. You have to save him and the Island. Only you can do it._

Pretending to come out of a trance, Ben told Widmore,

"The Island will be inhabitable by sunset. Have someone check the toxicity readings if you don't believe me." _If Walt hasn't moved the Island by sundown there is no hope. This is all the time I can stall._

Widmore had Ben shoved back into one of the rooms, locking the door, and did send one of his scientists to check the atmospheric readings as close as he could get. The poison level was dropping as Ben claimed, although he knew it was due to Richard having followed his orders. There was nothing to do but wait and hope.

* * *

A little later due to the time zone difference, as the sun peeked over the horizon in the east, Walt was waken by a haunting voice.

"Walter! Wake up!"

"Huh? What?"

Groggy, Walt struggled to figure out where he was. He could really move only his forearms, and that was to extend them straight up. Some sand fell away from his face as he did so, and he shook his head to get some breathing room. Turning his head, he found that the surface of the sand was four centimeters over the top of his head, while in front the sand was up to his chin. He looked up through the hole formed above his head, and his eyes focused on …

"Mr. Locke! I thought you were dead!"

The image of John Locke standing before Walt spoke.

"I did not say I wasn't. I am in a kind of transitional phase. Now get out of that hole. You are not playing a game on some beach."

Walt moved his arms some, getting his palms on the surface, but had hardly any leverage to help himself.

"I'm stuck. I'm in too deep and can't get out."

"You can get out, Walter."

Walt didn't feel like putting forth the effort.

"Why should I?"

"Because … you have work to do!"

A sense of déjà vu swept Walt, though he couldn't explain why. It was if he had heard the conversation in a dream, but reversed somehow. He waved his arms, battering the sides of the top of the hole, and made a serious effort to push himself up, but it was still hopeless.

"I really am stuck, can you please give me a hand?"

Locke sadly shook his head. "You are not seeing my physical presence. I can not help you. You got yourself into this mess; you must get yourself out."

"That isn't fair. Ben made me do this, and the sandstorm came. Can't you send a shovel so I can reach it? Or a pole or something, I've got nothing here."

Shaking his head again, Locke responded, "In this form I have no power to move physical objects in your world. Now hurry to your destination, there is not much time. The fate of the world depends on you." With that, Locke faded into the thin air.

"No wait, don't leave me down here!"

But Walt's pleas had no effect. He blinked his eyes. _Was that for real?_

In any case, Walt now felt he had a purpose. He took a deep breath, finding the body-fitting sand hole preventing his chest from expanding fully, and cutting his breath short. After taking some shallower breaths, he calmed down.

_This is like being buried in the sand at the beach. Except … when they bury a dude on the beach, they don't bury him over his head!_

Walt felt as if his body was baking in the warm sand, like a potato surrounded by glowing coals. Then he pushed more sand away from his head and face, and then started a laborious process of rocking and twisting, increasing his space barely a millimeter at a time. From time to time he flung fistfuls of sand out of the hole. Gradually a funnel-shaped hole formed around him, though it took half an hour to get the bottom of that to chest level. At long last he was able to take some deep, full breaths. Gaining confidence, he pressed his palms against the sides of the funnel he had formed, his arms at forty-five degree angles with his body and pushed up, but didn't budge. The sand had packed in too tightly around his lower body. Walt tried enlarging the funnel, but that became rapidly increasingly more difficult as the sand was denser and he had less leverage with his arms extended.

Taking a moment to recover, Walt considered his limited options, and decided his best chance was to create space around his body so he could push himself up. He gyrated and twisted his lower body the best he could, and tried to stand on his tiptoes. Periodically he tried pushing himself up out of the hole, but his muscles weren't up to the task. The process was annoyingly slow, with his rocking and twisting motions gaining freedom of movement no more than a millimeter at a time. Despite himself, he found the endeavor exciting, and bordering on fun. It was a battle between him, completely unaided by man or machine, and the great Sahara Desert.

After an hour of twisting, turning, and rocking, Walt felt a section of sand give way around his hips. Figuring his chance had come, Walt again pressed his palms against the sides of the funnel, which was packed hard enough so that he got some decent leverage, and slowly he brought his abdomen up out of the narrow hole. He was never so excited to see his navel. Looking up, he realized his head was finally above the surface, though there was nothing to see but more sand. With his arms straight, he tried to dig his toes into the sides of the hole so he could reposition his arms and push himself higher. Unfortunately, he couldn't get enough of a purchase to support himself, and he plopped right back down to his chest.

_Think Walt, think. You've come too far to give up._

The effort cost Walt some energy, and he had to wait a few minutes to recover before another attempt. When he was ready, he pushed himself waist-high again, and this time simply pushed as hard as he could with his feet against the sides of the sand hole. Then he reached for the edge of the funnel and the top surface with one hand, and then quickly brought the other hand up, shoulder width apart, intending to pull himself out. But the sand in his grasp gave way, and before he could readjust his legs he slid to the bottom again. To make things worse, some sand cascaded down the sides of the conical depression, leaving him in up to his armpits. At least this time that top layer of sand was looser than before, and it was easier to push that aside and throw it out of the hole. Another fifteen minutes later when his chest was clear again, he paused to think.

_What am I doing wrong? I have to get my butt up on the edge of hole where the funnel ends._

This time he placed his hands right next to his body, and pushing up, went higher than before due to the straight vertical angle of his arms. He sat on the edge as he imagined, pushed his feet against the far edge of the lower part of the hole, and then brought one leg out, pushing against the sloped side of the funnel. Then out came the other leg, and pushing with both, Walt scooted up with the funnel part against his back. He started to arch his back to get a good part of his weight on the top surface of the sand, when the added pressure he put on his feet caused the sand at the bottom of the funnel to give way. As his legs dropped into the narrow hole, Walt flailed with his arms, struggling in vain to avoid sliding down the steep funnel slope. In a second he was once again chest deep in his sandy prison.

"Dang it! I was so close!"

Walt shouted in anger as he banged the sides of the funnel, causing sand to cascade down again. He watched with detached bemusement as it covered his chest once more, and then continued to cover his shoulders before it stopped. Too upset and tired to more for the moment, he stood there with only his head showing, debating whether or not to give up. After perhaps another half hour,

"No! I'm not going to let some stupid sand beat me!"

With renewed determination, Walt twisted and rocked, flinging sand farther away out of the hole. On this occasion the sand on top was looser still, and the slope of the funnel was shallower, so it was easier than on the previous attempts. It took eight minutes this time to expose his chest and shoulder blades to the hot air. He repeated the motions of his last escape attempt, but this time was careful not to suddenly increase the pressure from his feet once he got them to the bottom of the funnel. Keeping his weight evenly distributed, he arched his back, and successfully got a large fraction of his weight on the top surface of the sand. One final push with his legs and rolling over, clutching the sand with both hands, and he was free.

"I did it!"

He lay splayed out on the hot sand on his stomach for a minute, again needing to recover his breath. Then he pushed himself up to a standing position, and beat his chest with his fists and let out a victory roar that no one was remotely close enough to hear. He brushed the sand off his body and the Toubou skirt, which thankfully remained intact throughout the ordeal, and then inspected his surroundings. Nothing but the orange-red desert sand. He had lost all sense of direction, and was confused for a minute, until he remembered the locator. He reached into his waistband, and was greatly relieved to find it still there and in working order. Sixteen degrees, forty-two minutes, fourteen point three seconds north, twenty-three degrees, four minutes, eight point two seconds east. He was within half a kilometer, though he noticed he was getting rather thirsty. Judging by the noon sun, to the north as a result of being slightly south of the equator near the summer solstice, he proceeded northwestwardly, checking the locator often. The numbers converged to the correct reading, down to the hundredth of a second. However, Walt was standing on sand indistinguishable from anything else in sight.

_Oh right, Ben said I might have to dig. The sandstorm might have messed it up._

Slipping the locator in the waistband of his skirt, he commenced digging with the only tools available, his bare hands. Methodically he dug a pit, and got discouraged when he found nothing after a half hour and a meter deep. He checked the locator again, and it said he was on the right spot. He kept going, and after another half hour and half a meter, he hands hit something metal. Excited, he scooped sand away, and saw that it was a cylindrical handle. He stood up and wiped his brow, preparing for the effort to open it. He noticed he couldn't see over the edge of the hole he had just dug in the sand, but it was not so alarming on this occasion. Then he bent down, seized the handle with both hands, and pulling hard with his arms and legs the metal cover yielded, sending a shocking yet refreshing blast of cold air onto him, and causing him to fall back against the edge of the hole.

Walt recalled Ben's words about the transport point being cold. After baking in the desert heat for most of the last two days Walt figured he could handle some cold. Peering into the hole, he saw a ladder descending into some kind of eerie light at the bottom. He spread his arms, soaking up the heat as much as possible, and then went down the ladder, closing the lid on top of him. He descended twenty-three rungs before reaching the floor. At first the freezing cold didn't bother him, like soon after coming out of a sauna. But as he walked in what was now completely inappropriate attire along the only corridor he started to shiver. He moved faster, holding his arms across his chest in an attempt to conserve heat. Fifteen seconds later he saw the storied donkey wheel.

* * *

"The Island's air should be clear by the time we reach if we proceed now."

Widmore's scientist relayed the information to the man in charge.

"Proceed at once, then!"

The freighter's engines roared into life and made with top speed toward the Island.


	8. Island Moving Difficulties

Walt's moving the Island doesn't quite go according to plan, and he meets someone unexpected.

* * *

Goosebumps covered Walt's body as he reached the donkey wheel. His mission was to turn the device a half-turn counterclockwise as seen from above. There were eight evenly spaced spokes, and Walt took hold of one of them. After a quick glance around to see if there was anything he might use as clothing, he pushed mightily, but the wheel provided stubborn resistance. Driving his shoulder into the effort, the wheel creaked, and yielded, making an eighth of a turn. Walt regrouped, and strained again. The wheel moved once more, but this time Walt lost his balance in the effort and fell to the floor. Walt's teeth were chattering from the cold as he picked himself up. It looked like he had rotated the wheel one more eighth of a turn, but he had actually turned it two eighths, or one quarter the way around on this occasion.

Fearing hypothermia and/or frostbite, Walt drove his shoulder in the wheel to make one more eighth of a turn. A new light revealed another passage leading to an elevator against a wall, but Walt thought he needed to give the wheel one more eighth-turn, which he did. Relieved at having completed this part of his mission before freezing to death, he raced to the elevator, shivering nearly uncontrollably all the way. He managed to get in and push a button for the ground floor as he heard some cranking noise, as if the Island was indeed moving. In a minute the elevator stopped and the doors opened to a most welcome blast of warm air. He took a big breath as the feeling in his body returned to normal. He had moved the island through space and time by turning that donkey wheel – but he had unknowingly rotated it one-eighth of a turn too far.

* * *

Charles Widmore's freighter was about a kilometer from the Island when the unbelievable happened. It slowly faded from view.

"Linus! What the #$%! is this?!" bellowed Widmore.

Everyone was staring at the vanishing island, on deck or through portholes. Ben heaved a sigh of relief, and then laughed in Widmore's face.

"It has gone somewhere you can't possibly find it."

"What do you mean by that! Tell me, or you'll suffer a most painful, slow death."

Ben paused, as if for dramatic effect.

"The island has gone into the past. Where it is safe from you."

"The past! I don't believe you. How is that possible?!"

"Since there's nothing you can do about it now, there's no harm in telling you. Besides myself, the recently departed Mr. Locke, and the three-year son of Claire Littleton, who's too young for this sort of thing, the one person who could have moved it just did – Walter Lloyd."

"Who?"

"One of the Oceanic 815 passengers whose death was incorrectly reported. He's thirteen now. Actually is the son of your former employee Kevin Johnson, or should we say, Michael Dawson."

"What?! Widmore was livid. I'd have had the Island years ago if it weren't for that Johnson. Or whoever. He took outs lots of good men, and … no, there was no one from your plane besides the Oceanic six at the crash site in Chad. Only primitive desert villagers in loincloths. You're lying."

"If you had done as thorough research as I, you'd know that those villagers aren't as primitive as you claim, and their garb is a bit more substantial than loincloths. Luckily I had the appropriate attire ready, and Walt walked right under you and your people's noses. A magnificent disguise, if I may say so myself."

Widmore seized Ben by the shirt collar and slammed him against a bulkhead. They got another look out a porthole. A whirlpool had formed around the spot where the Island had been, and the freighter was caught in it. Around and around it went, and then a black cloud arose from the center of the eddy.

"What is this now!?" demanded Widmore.

"I … I'm actually not sure," replied Ben. "This is unexpected. Maybe something is wrong."

The Oceanics had been grouped along a wall, constantly held at gunpoint. Jack and Kate hugged, as did Hurley and Sun. Left alone, Sayid had the composure to ask,

"And just what might be wrong?"

Ben gulped, and answered, "The only thing I can think of is that Walt didn't send the Island back to the right time. We're going to have to wait and see if he can fix this. Otherwise … good-bye to you all. Maybe we'll meet in another life."

The black cloud dissipated around the whirlpool, becoming gray as it spread out. It seeped throughout the freighter, swirling around all those onboard, crew and Oceanics alike. They all became disoriented, with a feeling that they were being sent into limbo.

* * *

Up at ground level, Walt listened, but no one else was there.

"Anybody here?"

There was no answer, so Walt looked around. There were plants all over the place, indicating he had definitely reached the Orchid. He then found a small bathroom, turned on the tap, and gratefully scooped handfuls of water from the faucet over the sink into his mouth. He was also pleased to find the toilet working, a big improvement from the few times he had to answer nature's call in the middle of the Sahara. One drawback was there weren't any clothes lying around, but that was minor compared to the bonanza of finding a working bathroom. Walt got a look in a mirror and laughed.

_Those guys were right. I don't look bad at all in this._

His skin looked a bit darker, having spent as much time as he did in the equatorial sun. He clowned around a bit, posing and flexing his muscles, that had proved just enough to turn the donkey wheel, and dig himself out of the deep hole in the desert. He realized how silly he was for being concerned about how he looked.

_Those guys in Chad wore nothing more than this their whole lives. Probably many of my ancestors as well. What was I thinking?_

He had come close to death on more than one occasion, bringing into perspective how completely unimportant his attire was. In fact, it was kind of neat how his only possessions at the moment were the Toubou skirt and the GPS that he no longer needed. _That will change pretty soon._

After Walt washed up and drank all the water he needed, he walked around through a maze of plants until he found a door leading out. Once outside the Orchid, Walt looked for a sign. Soon there was one – a parachute descended from the sky, heading toward a landing eight kilometers to the southwest. There wasn't a person dangling from the parachute, but rather a large crate Walt asked out loud,

"So Jacob, am I supposed to follow that?"

Walt didn't get an answer, but reasoned he could meet someone and find out what he was supposed to do. He noted with great care where the chute went down, and proceeded on an accurate course by lining up landmark after landmark, usually distinctive trees. While the island wasn't as hot as the Sahara, Walt still easily worked up a good sweat with all the going up and down hills, and found being attired in the skirt was as comfortable as he could get.

Going down one steep hill, Walt stepped on a leaf that was covering a rock, and slipped. He hit the ground and immediately began tumbling out of control. He seemed to pick up speed as he managed to avoid the myriad tress and headed for the bottom of a valley. Near the bottom, he bounced off a fallen log, sending him airborne, and he landed on a large pile of dried leaves in a sitting position. Grateful for the soft landing, he sat there for a few minutes to recover his breath, vowing to be more careful.

The pile was large enough so that Walt's lower body was covered, and the leaves on the surface practically tickled his stomach. When he was ready Walt stood up, but instead of rising from the ground, Walt's legs simply went straight down. He couldn't help but laugh like a little kid who had just jumped into a waist-high pile of leaves. He took one step forward, but as he took a second step, his footing gave way, sending him down to his neck. _What is this? Just the bottom of the valley where lots of leaves collected, right? Though there could be a bit of a hole_.

Standing still with his unsure footing, Walt looked up at the steep sides of the valley. The closest side was no more than four steps away. With no one there to help, and deciding it would be too humiliating to call for help to get out of a bunch of leaves, Walt carefully edged toward that side, making swimming motions with his arms and taking gentle steps. It worked for a step and a half, but halfway into the second step the leaves shifted again, and Walt plummeted to the bottom of the hole, four meters deep. The leaves closed in over him, leaving his head more than two meters below the surface. In near total darkness, Walt flailed with his arms to push leaves away from his face, but more leaves were there to replace them.

_Calm down. You're just at the bottom of a valley. You can climb out like the leaves weren't there._

Walt pushed his way forward, groping his way until he found a side. It was steep, but not impossibly so. Doing his best to ignore the leaves, Walt carefully found handholds and footholds, and slowly climbed out. In a couple minutes his head broke through the surface, and after that it was easy, being able to see what he was doing. He made it to a ridge, and got his bearings again. Now that he saw it wasn't dangerous, he was tempted to jump in again, as it would have fun under other circumstances. But he had a mission to perform, and fun would have to wait.

Eventually Walt came within sight of the large crate, where a man in white, light clothing was picking up boxes of food and taking them somewhere. Walt couldn't see where the man went, and he was out of sight when Walt reached the crate. He simply waited there for the man to return, which he did several minutes later.

Desmond had been alone at the Swan station for two and a half years, after the demise of Kelvin. Fortunately, the food drops had continued every six months, and Desmond was used to the routine of manually transporting them back to the hatch. But on this day, he was in for a shock. On one of his trips back to the supplies, he saw a figure standing by the boxes. Desmond approached carefully, unsure if the person was a threat. As Desmond got closer, he was further surprised to discern the person was a child, a black boy, barefoot and bare-chested, in fact wearing only a dull red skirt, perhaps made of some animal skin. At least the boy sure didn't appear to be any kind of threat. Desmond tried to determine the possibilities.

_Looks more African, but maybe he's a Polynesian who got marooned here also. But why would he be out here? One of those tests of manhood things, where he has to spend some time alone on an island or something? He can't be Kelvin's replacement, can he? Probably doesn't understand English. But I've got to make sure._

Desmond looked Walt in the eye.

"Are you him?"

Walt didn't know how to answer, and hedged his bets.

"Could be."

_So he does understand English. Even sounds American. _With the non-committal answer, Desmond tried the secret question.

"What did one snowman say to the other snowman?"

Walt had heard the riddle before, and responded,

"Smells like carrots."

"You are him!" announced Desmond. "Come with me. Then name's Desmond, Desmond Hume."

Desmond offered his hand, and Walt shook it.

"Walt, Walt Lloyd. Great to meet you."

"Well, we've got to get this food to my place. I mean our place, now. Take one of the boxes with you."

Desmond picked up one of the boxes from the food drop and started walking. With nothing better to do, and seeing this as his opportunity to learn something, Walt went along.

_Was this the guy I'm supposed to meet? I thought it was Richard. Desmond? Seven letters, two syllables, ends in "d"? I've got to play it cool._ Walt took one of the crates and followed Desmond to what would be Walt's new home for some indeterminate length of time.


	9. Crashing at Desmond's Pad

Desmond and Walt exchange information as Walt gets settled into the Swan Hatch, learns about the countdown timer and the computer keyboard buttons, and has more visions.

* * *

Desmond took Walt to the main Swan Hatch entrance, unlocking a door and showing Walt in. They took the boxes to the pantry. Desmond was understandably curious.

"So tell me, lad, how did you get here? No one told me you were coming. Of course, no one has told me anything in a long time."

Walt was overcome by all the stuff inside the hatch, a place he had never seen. Not having made up a cover, he told much of the truth.

"Actually I started from Chad. I went down a ladder somewhere in the Sahara, and came up in another building on this island. I saw the parachute coming down over here with something, and figured that's where I was supposed to be."

Desmond stated at Walt incredulously for several seconds, and then burst out laughing.

"Laddie, that is about the most fantastic tale I've ever heard. But I know Dharma can be hush-hush, so if you want to keep your arrival a secret, I understand."

Walt thought about protesting that he was telling the truth, but decided against it. _I can't blame him for not believing that. _Instead, Walt played along.

"Guess you know Dharma then, with all their top secret stuff."

Desmond still had a hard time believing this boy was his new partner, but didn't want to lose him. Still, he wanted to find out what he can, and determined the best way to do that was to play along.

"You don't sound like you're from Chad. Sound more American."

"Well, yes, I had to go undercover as a native to avoid detection by … our enemies. It worked perfectly, but it looks like Dharma lost all my luggage. Got any spare clothes around here?"

Desmond chuckled at the continuing story.

"Sure, though not in your size. We'll figure out something. There's a bunch of clothes your … predecessor left behind."

At that moment, there was a distinctive beeping, occurring at regular intervals, once a second.

"Did the folks explain this to you, laddie?"

Walt was apprehensive.

"No, they said you'd explain everything to me."

"Well then, come over to the computer room."

Desmond walked quickly, and Walt followed as the beeping continued. Desmond explained,

"See that counter up there? It's down to three and a half minutes. Now watch as I type with this keyboard. Four, then the space bar, eight, space, fifteen, sixteen, twenty-three, forty-two, with a space between each pair of numbers. Then hit this button, that says 'execute'."

Desmond pushed the execute button, and the numbers on a display on the wall reset to 108:00.

"What did you just do?" asked Walt.

"I just saved the world. These numbers have to be typed in every 104 to 108 minutes. You can't type them in before the timer is down to four minutes. In fact, you can't type anything on this keyboard until then. You have four minutes to type these numbers in. The cycle repeats – forever."

"What happens if you don't type in the numbers in time?"

Desmond looked serious.

"You don't want to find out. I can't explain it exactly, but it's some kind of electromagnetic buildup that needs to be released periodically. If it doesn't get released, there'll be something like the greatest earthquake of all time. Dharma scientists could tell better, but I suppose they told you we can't communicate with the outside world until we're replaced. Did they say how long you'd be here?"

Walt had to make up something in a hurry. "One month. Kind of a summer intern project."

Desmond was suspicious, but wasn't going to give anything away.

"Aye, so they're bringing in some younger blood for shorter terms. Good for them. Now let's get you some clothes … Walt, right?"

"Yeah." _Wonder if I should have given him a fake name before._

They went to a large closet off a hallway.

"It's pretty much what you see is what you get. You could take in the pants a lot, and maybe you like oversize shirts. Don't know about the shoes, Kelvin didn't have small feet … ey, your feet burned? Are those blisters?"

Walt could only keep going with the story. "Yeah, I had to walk several kilometers in the desert, and it was pretty hot. My feet weren't used to it. That must have been yesterday, and they're better now."

Desmond chuckled. "I like you. When you've got a cover story, you've got to stick to it at all times. Good job. There's all kinds of medical stuff in another room."

Walt put on a spare white tee shirt, which made him feel more comfortable. Then he let Desmond show him the medical gear, and got some burn ointment to put on his feet. When the salve was well worked into his feet, he put on three pairs of socks to fill out an old available pair of shoes. He would keep the Toubou skirt on until he had a chance to make some pants that would fit.

"I'm okay, really," claimed Walt. Should we go get the rest of those boxes, before the beeper starts going again?"

"Good show, Walt, let's go. Those supplies come in every six months. Plenty of food and drink for two people."

"Two people? Isn't there anyone else on this island?"

Desmond shook his head. He had searched when he first landed on the island, but never encountered a sign of life until he ran into Kelvin.

"No Walt, I've been all alone these past thirty months."

Desmond and Walt made a few rounds trips to collect the rest of the crates from the food drop, and stored them in the pantry. Perishables went in the refrigerator and freezer. Inside for the day, Walt took the shoes and socks off, finding that much more comfortable. Desmond prepared a meal for the two of them. Just before it was ready, the countdown timer starting beeping again.

"Again? That didn't seem like so long ago," observed Walt.

"Every 104 minutes, plus however long it takes to enter the numbers. Now I want to see you type them in. I'll write them down for you."

They went to the computer, and Walt hesitantly typed in the proper sequence after Desmond had printed the numbers on a yellow sticky note.

"Good job!" proclaimed Desmond. "Now let's get back to supper."

Desmond added water to some powdered milk, and then they ate frozen dinner chicken and vegetables. Desmond commented,

"You can see why this is a two-man job. It's been very rough waking every hundred minutes or so for months."

"You've had to do this for that long? It's amazing you're still here."

"Well, to tell the truth, I'm not sure how I've done it. But this next month should go a lot better. Let's start off so your schedule is intact. Have you been up all day?"

"Pretty much. I woke up in that other building early this morning, and it was quite a hike to get here."

"Very good, you didn't skip a beat with your tale. Very natural. All right then, you get a good night's sleep, and then you'll get your first shift tomorrow morning. There's a bathroom with a shower, you look like you could use one."

Desmond showed Walt the bathroom, and set aside a couple clean towels. Continuing the tour, Desmond showed Walt the bunks.

"This is my bed, you can sleep over there. Of course, we won't be sleeping at the same time. Make yourself at home."

Desmond went back to the computer room, and relaxed on a sofa. Something didn't add up with his new partner; Walt didn't seem to know enough. But having anyone present, especially a non-threatening one like Walt appeared to be, was a blessing. Desmond punched in the numbers several times that night, getting them in promptly when the alarm started counting down. He looked forward for the chance to get several consecutive hours of sleep the next morning.

Walt was grateful for the opportunity to take a shower. When he was done, he wrapped a towel around his waist, put his skirt and the tee shirt he had worn in what looked like a laundry basket, and then back to the closet where he took out another tee shirt and a pair of shorts adorned with the Dharma emblem. They were far too large, and would fall down if he didn't hold onto them, but they should be okay for sleeping, and he figured he could take them in at the waist in the morning. He lay down in his bunk and fell asleep quickly, though he heard the beeping the first couple times it sounded during the night. Then he dreamed, and an image of a familiar figure came into focus, though he was dripping wet.

"Walt … Walt, listen up."

Walt murmured in his sleep. "Ch-Charlie? How … I mean I thought you were …"

"Never mind that. I'm here to tell you that Desmond is a good man. Cooperate with him."

"O-okay."

The image of Charlie faded from view and was soon replaced by, an image of a large African man appeared in Walt's dream. There were several scars etched into his bare chest, and he carried a large wooden stick with all sorts of inscriptions engraved on it.

"Walter…" spoke the man with some kind of African accent.

"Wh-who are you?" mumbled Walt.

"My name is Mr. Eko. I was on your airplane. I bring you this message. Push the button. Enter the numbers and push the button. Do not fail us, Walter."

Walt woke up and sat up bolt upright, and heard the beeping start and stop within seconds. _Just a dream, but … I know what I have to do. That could have been Jacob giving me a message._ Walt slept soundly the rest of the night.

The next morning, Desmond shook Walt awake.

"Rise and shine, Walt my boy, time for your shift."

Walt yawned, sat up, and remembered the shorts he was wearing were way too big.

"Morning, Desmond. Uh, you got sewing stuff in here? I need to take these shorts in a little."

"Aye, there's a sewing kit around. You call those shorts? They almost reach your ankles."

"Um, whatever. Pants then."

"Doesn't matter. Here, let me show you."

Desmond found the sewing kit on a shelf in the main room, what might pass for the living room in the Swan Hatch. He also showed Walt the laundry room and exercise room.

"Got to exercise to keep the mind sound, as well as the body. Just be careful with the weights if you use them."

The weight set looked interesting to Walt. "Thanks, I will."

While Walt worked on taking in the waist of his pants with a plain needle and thread, Desmond made a breakfast of bacon, scrambled eggs, and orange juice, and coffee for himself. After they finished, Desmond took Walt back to the computer room as the timer started once again.

"This time, enter the numbers, but don't hit execute yet. I have to show you this."

Walt did as instructed. The six numbers glared on the monitor, and the timer ticked down the seconds, to 3:00, then 2:00, and 1:00. After the one-minute mark, the beeping grew much louder. Desmond explained,

"If you don't finish the sequence in three minutes, the alarm gets very loud, enough to wake you up anywhere in the hatch. If either of us hears that, we've got to get here immediately. Now wait until the timer reaches eight seconds."

Walt nervously held his index finger over the execute button. The counter hit 0:10, and then the next couple beeps were absolutely deafening. Walt slammed his finger on the execute button, the sonorous beeping stopped, and the counter clicked back to 108:00. Walt breathed a sigh of relief.

"Now you know all about this. It's your shift for the next twelve hours. If there's a problem, wake me, but I think you can handle this."

Desmond remembered a certain videotape.

"There's a tape here somewhere, let me get it."

Desmond found the tape.

"This explains what we have to do here. This place is called the Swan Hatch. Now it's my turn to get a good long sleep. And please try very hard not to let the counter run down to one minute."

"Got it."

Desmond went off to his bunk, and collapsed. Finally, after all these months, he could relax in bed. He fell to sleep quickly, and dreamed … about Penny.


	10. Hatch Routine

Author' notes: Thanks, especially to all4jesus, for the encouraging reviews. As for the other inhabitants of the Island, just assume they're living in their village just as they did before the plane crash, ignoring Desmond. They aren't part of the story yet. Whether there is another Walt (who would actually be nine) in Australia now will be revealed later, probably much later.

I find that a big flaw in Lost is that after Walt had those premonitions about the hatch, he never got to meet its inhabitant. So Walt and Desmond will spend some more time together here.

* * *

Walt finds out from Desmond that there is a time discrepancy, and they discuss the possibility of going for rescue while working as partners in pushing the computer buttons.

* * *

The next few days Desmond and Walt alternated twelve-hour shifts with good results. Both were getting decent sleep, and were looking more radiant. They ate meals together at the start and end of their shifts. Walt watched the videotape with fascination, learning that the Dharma organization considered his and Desmond's task extremely important, and that why two-person shifts were so vastly preferred. There was also the explanation that communication with the outside world was prohibited.

Walt figured it was time to do laundry at the start of one his shifts. He took out the locator from the waistband of the red skirt, and Desmond spotted it.

"What is that device? I've never seen anything like it."

"Oh, it's a locator, like a GPS, you know, global positioning system. It helped me get here. Finest in 2008 technology. Want to see it?"

Desmond took the object, and saw the readings. "Four degrees, fifteen minutes, south latitude, one hundred sixty-eight degrees, forty-two minutes, twenty-three seconds east longitude. So that's where we are, hold it, you said two thousand and eight?"

Walt realized he might have made a mistake.

"I mean, …"

"Tell me what day you think today is, no hesitating."

"It was a long journey, and I'm not quite sure, we left on the sixth, a day to get to the island, another to Chad, then a night in that other hatch, and three days here, uh, June 12, 2008?" _I have a feeling that's wrong._

"What are you trying to pull? It's the fourth of May, 2004."

Walt flinched. _I went back too far. Now what do I have to do? Jacob, or that Mr. Eko, said to push the button. Guess I have to keep that up until they tell me something else._

Since telling the Desmond the truth had apparently worked before, Walt tried,

"I didn't tell you before; I went back in time when I got to this island. It was supposed to be a secret."

Walt put his dirty clothes in the washer and started it. Desmond looked at Walt incredulously. "Are you sure you didn't bump your head along the way?"

It was a way out for Walt.

"No, I'm not sure … wait, I think I did bump my head a few times on the way here. Two thousand and four, of course. And the trip must have been longer than I remembered."

Desmond was sure something was up, but didn't want to let on. Walt wanted to change the subject.

"So how did you get here?"

Desmond thought, _He doesn't know much at all about this place. No harm in telling him and he may tell me something useful._

"I was sailing on a boat, on a solo around the world race. I felt I had to do something to impress someone very dear to me. I believe I was doing quite well when a tremendous storm hit while I was somewhere in the South Pacific. Did major damage, messed up all my navigation equipment. A full day later, my sailboat limped to a shore of this island."

"You couldn't fix it?" questioned Walt.

Desmond chuckled. "I could fix it all right. Took some time, but those who enter a race like that know what they're doing. The problem is that this bloody island is what needs fixing. I tried sailing away many times, and each time my ship sort of turned around and came back to this island, like all currents lead here. Doesn't make any sense."

"Did you try sailing away at 325 degrees?"

Desmond looked at Walt funny.

"Can't say that I tried that exact reading, but why did you say that?"

Walt realized that maybe he shouldn't have mentioned it, as he might be messing up a time line. On the other hand, maybe telling Desmond was the right thing to do.

"Okay, if you want the whole truth, I originally was on a plane that crashed here. Lots of bad stuff happened, I got kidnapped, my father … got me back, and we sailed off on a boat at 325 degrees according to my kidnapper's instructions. It sounded like it was the only direction we could get off."

Desmond found Walt's tale ridiculous, but was unsettled by how naturally Walt told it. _He gives no indication that he's making all this up._

"So if you got off, why are you back here? Why would your father let you come here alone? Does he know you're here?"

Walt's face grew somber.

"My dad died a few weeks later trying to rescue people who were still here. He did save lots of people, but it's temporary. I found out I had to come back to finish the job."

"Oh, I'm sorry about your dad."

Desmond had a lot to think about. Walt was just a kid, and was spinning a fantastic story, right? Nevertheless, Desmond yearned to try sailing his boat out at 325 degrees, but that entail either leaving Walt alone with the button pushing responsibility, or taking him with and possibly have the world end before they could even reach his sailboat.

"Let me get this straight. Your plane crashed here, you were stuck here a while, you got off, but lots of people died, and now you've … come back in time to set things right? Doesn't that seem rather unbelievable?"

_Maybe it's best that he doesn't believe me._ "Yeah, I know it sounds impossible, and I didn't make it back to the right day. I went too far back, and I really don't know what to do. The only indication I got was to cooperate with you and keep pushing those buttons."

"Indication? What sort of indication?"

Walt expected Desmond not to be fond of this answer. "I had a vision in a dream. Sometimes I see people who were on the island with me, even though I didn't always meet them."

"What about me? Did you meet me the … first time you were here?"

"No, I never met you before I saw you at the food parachute thing. I sensed there was some building on the island, which had to have been your hatch, but never saw it."

Desmond was getting more concerned.

"Does this mean you know my future?"

"No, no one told me anything about you, sorry. And even if I did, it might not be good to tell you. It's often impossible to know what the right thing to do is."

"That's a problem everyone faces from time to time. I've think that's enough for now. Have a good shift."

Desmond went to his bunk, took off his shoes and socks, and lay down. He was not surprised to find sleep difficult_. What if the kid is right, or at least part right? That 325 degrees is the way to get off of here. It could be my only chance to see Penny again. I can't live with the thought of never seeing her again._

But such an attempt would come with consequences. _The lad can't come with me; we need someone to push the button or there may not be a world. There's no way he can manage that boat alone. He should be able to handling the station alone for a few days. I'll get help, and send return on the reverse course, that would be 145 degrees from wherever I hit land or a passing ship. But what if he fails? I have to tell him about the failsafe._

Desmond thought some more, and his conscience got the better of him. _No, I cant' leave, that simply isn't fair to the boy. We'll just have to think of something else._ He then drifted off to sleep.

Walt transferred his clothes from the washer to the dryer when the washer cycle finished, entered the numbers when the beeping sounded, and walked around the hatch until the dryer was finished. He had plenty of time to alter the clothes to fit him better, except for the shoes, so he managed with the three pairs of socks while he was awake. _What happened to the guy who was here before?_

When Walt's shift ended he had a chance to talk with Desmond over a meal. It was easy to lose track of time being underground all the time, and Walt wasn't sure if it should be considered breakfast or dinner. But that didn't matter as Walt had more questions.

"So Desmond, how did you end up here? You couldn't get off this island, but … then what?"

"Not a pleasant story. This man, Kelvin his name was, saw me wandering outside one day, and recruited me. A lot like I got you. He was pretty desperate, as his partner had passed away, and no replacement came. So I joined him, he taught me all I needed to know about this place, and we took twelve-hour shifts for a couple months. And then … he had an accident, and passed on as well. Like I said before, I've been alone nigh two and a half years." _Don't need to tell him the details of Kevin's demise._

"Oh, that sounds terrible. Somebody messed up, this Dharma organization?"

"Aye, somebody messed up, but not completely. They've still been delivering the food every six months, so someone thinks things are still peachy here."

"It must be tough. You couldn't go outside for more than a hundred minutes at a time, all these years."

"You said it. But this island can be dangerous; we're really better off down here."

"Right, this island has crazy things, like polar bears. And boars, and … there was some clanking noise, some of us called a monster. I heard it, and my dog heard it, but I never saw it."

Desmond's face grew more serious. "I've heard what you call the monster. Never ran into a polar bear, though these Dharma folks could have brought a zoo over or something. From what Kelvin told me that's the sort of thing they'd do, their barmy scientific experiments."

They finished eating, and Walt went to bed, relieved to disencumber himself of the shoes and all the socks. During his shift, Desmond agonized over the possibility of running away and searching for Penny. _But if I do that and she finds out the truth, she'll believe me to be a coward. And she'd be right. But it's only fair to let the youngster know about the failsafe…._ When the shift was over, he prepared another meal for himself and Walt. When that was over, it was time to explain how Walt would have one last fighting chance in the event he was alone and failed to enter the numbers.

"Walt, there is something else I have to tell you. I don't want you to get scared, but there is a failsafe mechanism in case the numbers don't get entered in time. "

"Failsafe? What does that mean?"

"I suppose it means that if we fail, we can still be safe. Let me explain. It's buried in all those Dharma manuals on that bookshelf in the other room, but here is the essence. If for some reason, and I can't envision why, the numbers don't get entered and 'execute' pushed in time, there is still a chance. Down here is a ladder leading to a small, secure room."

Desmond pulled a handle on the floor in the corner of the computer room to show the ladder going down. Then he showed Walt a key hanging on a hook on the wall.

"There is a keyhole in some machine I can't explain. Take this key, put it in the keyhole, and give it a quarter turn clockwise. I'm not sure what it's supposed to do, but I think it releases a lot of electromagnetic stuff all at once. I don't know what it will do to the hatch, or the island, but the world should still be saved."

Walt didn't like the sound of that.

"If the numbers aren't pushed … but why wouldn't they be?"

"Perhaps if one of us was incapacitated, very sick, and the other got too tired, and mistyped the numbers, and couldn't fix it in time. Something like that. But it's a last resort. We'll probably never have to use it."

"Yeah, sounds like it. Thanks for telling me."

With that, Desmond went off to bed, and Walt started another shift. Several days and nights passed, and then days became weeks. After one month, Walt surprised Desmond with his assessment.

"Desmond, we're getting nowhere like this. I think the reason I was brought here was to show you the way off this island."

"Get me off …you mean on my sailboat?"

"Yes. Now we know in which direction to head."

"Aye, but one of us would have to stay behind to push the button, and … I can't teach you how to operate the sailboat from here."

"It will be all right. I'm in great shape now, and can last hear several days. You'll hit a shipping lane in two days, and can bring back experts and whoever in a plane, a seaplane maybe, and they can figure all this stuff out."

"Are you sure you'll be all right? Of course I promise I'd come back for you as soon as I could but … I don't like the idea of leaving you behind alone."

"I can handle being alone. I was alone in the Sahara for more than a day, with nothing except that tribal skirt. I didn't tell you before, but I got buried up to here in a sandstorm, and got out just fine." Walt held his hand with his palm horizontal, four centimeter over his head, which was now sporting a short Afro. "Here there's all kinds of food, and real beds, and a working bathroom, so I'll be all right."

Desmond admired the young man's bravery.

"I suppose it might be the only way out for both of us, but let's think about it for a day, shall we?"

"Sure, we should both be sure of this." Walt went off to bed, definitely not wanting to spend the rest of his life in this hatch pushing keyboard buttons, and believing his idea was the way to go.


	11. Battle of the Button

Desmond searches for civilization and Penny while Walt struggles with button duty.

* * *

Hours later, when Desmond's shift was over and Walt got up, Desmond announced,

"I've thought it over, and I'd like to see you man the station by yourself for three days before trying it for real."

"Sounds reasonable."

For the next three days, Walt stayed up twelve hours at a time, then slept as he could, waking every hundred minutes or so when the alarm went off. He managed this with no major difficulty. Desmond insisted on a few more days of the usual alternating shifts, making sure Walt was well rested before Desmond departed.

Desmond reached his sailboat, anchored as he had left it more than two years before. Now he needed to rest, but had to get offshore first. He set up the sails and pulled away, constantly checking the boat's compass and pulling on lines to keep the heading as close to the bearing 325 degrees as possible. When he felt he was far enough away, he dropped the anchor, climbed inside, and fell asleep soundly on a bunk.

* * *

For the next couple days Walt settled into the routine rather well, taking several naps during each day, and exercising on the equipment when he could. Some half-remembered fact from school or television, probably a nature channel, came to mind. _Don't some animals live like that, lots of short naps throughout the day? I can do this._

He went through the next few days with pretty much the same routine. He got a scare once when the alarm went off while he was in the shower, and he hurriedly clamped a towel around his waist and ran to the computer, but in plenty of time. He then had to sop up the wet marks across the floor, resolving to pay closer attention to the time.

* * *

Meanwhile, in two days Desmond encountered an ocean liner. The position where they met was recorded, and soon authorities questioned him extensively. He was convincing, and a search party was set to find the Island. However, for some inexplicable reason it didn't work. Using the reverse heading of 145 degrees failed to find anything, even at 4 degrees, 15 minutes, south latitude and, 168 degrees, 42 minutes, 23 seconds east longitude. Desmond willingly subjected to lie detector tests, and passed them all easily.

The judgment was that Desmond had suffered hallucinations during his solo trip after he crashed on some unknown island in the South Pacific, and that he genuinely believed the events he related. After two weeks he was discharged, and waiting for him was Penny Widmore. At their first opportunity they engaged in a long embrace.

"Desmond, Darling, I never gave up on you," gushed Penny. "I always had a feeling you were out there alive, somewhere."

"The thought of you was what kept me going; I had nothing else to live for."

Their relationship blossomed, but the island experience kept nagging at Desmond's conscience. _It was too real, I couldn't have imagined it all, and that poor boy out there alone. Heaven help him._

* * *

As the days passed, Walt became increasingly concerned that something bad had happened to Desmond. In his waking hours, Walt worked out some of his frustration on the exercise equipment. He realized sitting or lying down all day would be bad for him, and exercising helped him stay awake when he had to, and also to fall asleep more quickly. This did give him more sweaty socks and tee shirts to wash, which was a bit of a nuisance. Then another thought struck him. _There's no point in wearing all these socks. Or shirts. I need shorts in case someone comes, but other than that, it's just extra laundry. I can save time and water._ From then on Walt was usually attired in just one of the pair of taken-in and cut-off white pants, or his dull red Toubou skirt that still fit him well.

For several more days Walt did all right. He could run faster and longer on the treadmill, with his time for 1,500 meters decreasing from nine minutes to under eight minutes. His strength went up to the point where he could perform fifteen repetitions of bench-pressing fifty kilograms. Upon gazing at himself in a full-length mirror, he noted that he was probably in the best physical shape of his life.

But as the days of solitude turned into weeks, Walt concluded that Desmond wasn't coming back. _He may have run into a big storm, or sharks, or who knows what._ The loneliness took its toll, and Walt was getting in worse and worse shape. He spent more and more of the intervals between alarms in bed. When he was awake, he found himself tired more of the time, and his physical prowess decreasing. His 1,500-meter times started increasing. Not thinking of taking it easier on the weights, one day he tried the bench press at the usual fifty kilograms. The first repetition was difficult, and had Walt been more alert, he would have placed the bar back on the rack while he could. He lowered the barbell a second time, and could only press it halfway up. Alarmed, he watched with dread as the bar slowly and inexorably descended, his arms straining but only delaying the inevitable as the metal bar settled on his bare chest.

Walt rested a minute, and then put all he had into raising the bar again. He lifted it an entire centimeter before it settled down again. One more try produced a millimeter at best, and Walt had to face the fact that he was pinned to the bench. He weighed his options. He could roll the bar down his stomach, but that would probably be quite painful and might crack some ribs. He had been careful to set the bar toward the bottom of his chest so that it wouldn't roll onto his neck, which had to be the worst option. He pushed up on one side and down on the other, but that pinched the skin painfully between the bar and the bench, and he stopped after rotating the bar a few degrees. _Guess I should have worn a nice, thick shirt._ It was most comfortable with the bar level, with him providing some resistance with his energy-depleted arms to prevent the barbell from crushing him with its full weight.

Walt debated whether it was a good thing no one else was there to see him, or a bad thing that no one else was there to serve as a spotter. One more idea came to him: he tried lifting his feet from the floor and bending his legs enough to get his feet to help push the barbell away, but that proved impossible as well as he couldn't get his feet close enough to the bar. Walt yawned, and closed his eyes for a moment. The bar grew heavier on his chest, driving his shoulders blades deeply into the padding of the bench, and making it hard to breathe.

Fifteen minutes later he was jolted out of his reverie by the beeping of the alarm. One more push got him nowhere, and he had to make a decision. _If I roll it onto my stomach, I'll still have to push it to one side. Or keep on rolling it down, which must hurt a lot more._ Walt pushed hard up with his right hand and to the side with his left, catching his ribs under the bar for a second before rolling to the right.

"Yeeow!"

The bar settled at an angle, one end on the floor with the other on the bench. Walt got to the computer with two minutes to spare, and entered the numbers with a sigh of relief. There was a long reddish mark on his left side, to which he applied some lotion. There was also a long groove straight across his chest, but as the skin wasn't broken he could just leave that alone. He had some food and fruit juice and collapsed on his bed.

Having survived one narrow escape did not make Walt's life much better. More days passed, and he got tired more quickly, and curtailed his 1,500-meter runs into 800 meters. He lowered the weights for any more lifting he attempted. The mark on his side healed, yet he sure to wear tee shirts when bench pressing. He checked outside once a day, but never spotted another sign of human life, and was very restricted in his movements thanks to the never-ending countdown. His 800-meter runs turned into 400, and his exercise routine dwindled into a few sit-ups, push-ups, and pull-ups. There was no spring in his step, and his shoulders grew stooped. He spent more and more time intervals in bed, until he was spending all his time not eating, using the bathroom, or pushing the buttons, in bed.

Eventually the initial beeping wouldn't wake Walt. Not until the very loud sounds of the final minute would he wake up, and then had to get the numbers in within a minute. A day of this and he had a close call, not getting the numbers right until the deafening roar of the final ten seconds. Walt put a mattress, sheets, and blanket in the computer room so as to save time. But it would not be enough. He started sleeping through part of the final minute. He had more close calls where he barely got the numbers entered, it being difficult to see with his bleary eyes.

And then on June 23, at 1:58 in the morning, it happened. Walt had typed 32 and 24, and couldn't backspace and correct it in time. Terror-stricken, he saw the counter flip through all the digits and settle on strange symbols printed in yellow on red tiles. Metal objects started flying across the room. Fortunately he remembered, _The failsafe! _Walt dodged some objects and grabbed the key, and almost lost it due to the strong pull of the developing magnetic field. He needed both hands to pull open the handle to the hole in the floor, and barely opened it enough for him to squeeze through. He climbed down the steps quickly, losing his grip near the end and sliding down the last meter. With magnetic fields going haywire, he forced his hand to the keyhole at the bottom of the ladder. Exhausted and practically in tears, he prayed, _Please let this work._

With his last bit of strength Walt inserted the key into the keyhole and turned it.

KAAAABOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMM!

And then all went black.


	12. Dead or Alive?

Walt wakes up in an embarrassing position – but does it matter? Is he, or anyone else, alive?

* * *

Walt woke to the sun bearing down on his body. His stark naked body.

"Hey, what's the big idea!?"

Walt's first impulse was to cover himself up. Then he got to his feet, and realized he was in a deep pit. The hatch somehow had imploded around him, disintegrating his clothes as well as everything that had been part of the hatch, and leaving a large crater in the shape of a paraboloid, with smooth dirt walls gradually getting steeper near the edge. The pit was fifteen meters deep and thirty meters in diameter at the top. There were no obvious handholds or footholds visible after the amazingly neat implosion.

Walt felt foolish standing there in the nude at the bottom with no way to clothe himself. The walls looked impossibly steep but he had no choice but to try to climb out, barehanded, barefoot, and bare everything else. He started up one side. The first five meters were easy, but then the dirt started to give under his feet. He carefully dug his hands and feet into the side, and made his way farther up, but at the ten-meter mark, the dirt failed to support both feet simultaneously. He hung by his hands for a split second, but then the dirt gave way there too, and he tumbled down near to the bottom, with plenty of dirt cascading down with him.

Fortunately the dirt was smooth, and he didn't hurt himself. He got up, and brushed the dirt off. He made another assault on a different side, with nearly identical results. As he brushed himself off again, he was thinking, _I have to try something else._ Choosing another angle, he went up much more slowly, and did make it one more meter higher before the wall gave way, sending Walt on a slightly longer trip to the bottom. With increasing anger, he ran as fast as he could in another direction, but came tumbling down more quickly. His thoughts were discouraging. _What a ridiculous way to die. Starve to death in a stupid hole._

He had now been awake in this unique prison for an hour, and was becoming convinced he could well spend the rest of his short life there. Admitting defeat, and facing humiliation should someone find him, he called out, "Anybody out there? I could really use some help." There was no answer to that or other shouts for help. Another thought struck Walt.

_What if Desmond was right? I may have just let the earth be destroyed. I could be the last human being on the planet. Maybe the last living thing._

Despite the heat, Walt shivered at the thought. Then another idea came to him. Raising his arms, he shouted, "Hey Jacob, can you give me a hand out of this? Got any suggestions?" Unfortunately for Walt, Jacob was not answering at this time. After waiting five minutes, Walt now shouted to the air, "Thanks for nothing, Jacob!" Walt sat down, drawing his knees up near his chest. He had plenty of time for contemplation.

_What difference does it make what I do if I'm the last person alive? I don't have anything to live for. I don't have anything … literally! I have absolutely nothing. Nobody cares, everybody I know is dead, this is pointless…._

Walt lay back, letting the sun roast his body. When it got too uncomfortable, he turned over on his stomach, naturally subjecting his backside to the baking process. Soon that was getting unbearable, and he got back on his feet. Walt reconsidered the question of whether he was alive. _Maybe I really am dead. This could be the afterlife. Am I doomed to roast here for all eternity?_ Then he was struck by the thought, _If I'm dead, why do I have to go to the bathroom?_ Walt improvised a latrine by digging a hole within the pit, a few meters away from the center. When finished, he covered it back up, and reflected on his situation, gazing up at the sky.

_That looks like the real sky. Isn't that sun moving? And this is real dirt. But how can I tell for sure?_ He stood there for a few more minutes, when a cloud crossed his restricted field of view. _That's a real cloud. This has got to be Earth._

How having been conscious for two hours, Walt had a change of heart after this realization. He stood up, shook his fist over his head, and yelled,

"I am not going out without a fight!"

With more anger now, Walt climbed again, but in his haste lost his footing at a lower height, and slid down once more. Another effort resulted in a larger mass of earth falling to the bottom of the pit. Uprighting himself once more, Walt noticed that the top of the pit didn't look so high. He realized, _The dirt is filling up the hole. If I can get enough down, it will be shallow enough to climb out._

Now excited, Walt climbed partway up again, anchored his feet and one hand, and with the other reached out as far as he could sideways, dug into the dirt, and clawed the dirt out. More earth fell, but not at a very satisfying rate. Walt took more chances, climbing higher and digging harder. Eventually a large chunk came loose, taking Walt with it. At the bottom, Walt sprang up as the dirt piled up around him, burying him up to his waist. There was a small consolation: _Well, at least no one can tell I'm naked now._

Walt tried to step out of the dirt but it had packed too tightly around him. He needed a breather. Rotating his upper body, he observed that the upper wall was less steep where the dirt had caved in, and that there was the end of a tree root sticking out. _That I can reach and climb._ Walt raised his arms in triumph, and comically beat his chest. He started laughing at his situation. When he recovered, he scooped the dirt away from his body, and rocked back and forth and from side to side. It took another fifteen minutes to extricate himself, eventually pushing himself up with his hands so that he could sit on the edge of the small hole that had just engulfed his lower body.

He had been awake three hours now, the blazing sun baking his body as if the curved sides of the large hole reflected heat rays directly onto Walt, and it was harder to brush the earth off his sweat-covered body. With that accomplished, he began one more ascent toward the root, which was about two meters below the regular ground level. As Walt expected, he was able to climb the shallower slope, and with a lunge seized the root with both hands. But in trying to climb up onto the root, the dirt beneath his feet gave way again, leaving him hanging by his hands – until the root snapped, sending him tumbling down once again out of control. Amid the dirt and dust Walt didn't realize where he was heading until he slid into the same hole in the center of the bottom of the pit from which he had just extricated himself. However, this time, instead of just finding himself waist-deep, more dirt piled around him, covering several centimeters of his stomach and back.

"Aaarrrrgh!"

Walt shook his fists in the air, and then pounded the ground alongside him. _Should have filled in that little hole_, he thought too late. He sulked, folding his arms across his chest that glistened with sweat. He took several deep breaths, and then resumed the laborious process of extricating himself again. This time it took close to half an hour, including filling in the hole after he was out.

Looking up again, Walt noticed a second root was now visible near the shortened first. He climbed up once again, and this time managed to grab one root with each hand. Combined, the roots were enough to support his weight. He made his way along the roots, moving one hand at a time closer to the edge of the pit and the trunks from which the roots emanated. He then maneuvered one foot one each root, and from that position was able to reach the ground with his hands and pull himself up over the edge.

"I DID IT!"

Spent from the effort, four hours in total, Walt lay splayed out on his back. A sense of euphoria over having cheated death came over him.


	13. Last Living Being on Earth?

Walt, fearing he is the last living being, searches for signs of life.

* * *

Three items considered essential to survival are food, clothing, and shelter, and Walt had none of the three. However, it was easy to determine that food was the most vital in his situation. After a quarter hour's rest, he got up and walked around, not omitting to look for anything that might be used as clothing, but came across a banana tree first. Climbing barefoot proved to be a challenge, but hunger is a powerful motive. Selecting the ripest of the bunch, he wolfed down four of them. He climbed back down, and quickly encountered a papaya tree. He climbed that, ate two juicy papayas, and dropped several more to the ground for later before climbing down.

Now it was down to clothing and shelter. In the heat, little clothing would be required, but Walt was hoping for an animal skin, or a grass skirt as a last resort, to avoid embarrassment when he did finally meet someone else. _I better meet someone else; dying alone would suck. But I could be the last person alive on Earth._ Then he heard a noise behind him.

"Is someone there?"

He ducked behind a tree, but instead of hearing a voice, it sounded more like grunting.

_Wild boar!_

Walt backed away, but the boar walked forward. Walt turned and ran, and the boar pursued. Realizing he couldn't outrun the beast, Walt headed for a tree with a branch at head height and swung onto it, pulling himself up out of reach of the boar. Walt climbed to a higher branch as the boar stopped at the base of the tree and looked up at Walt.

"Go away, you!"

The boar didn't listen, but waited. Walt held on for dear life, and after half an hour the boar got bored and trotted away. Walt climbed down, and pondered, _What do I do now? Maybe a boat is there, where Dad and I got away last time, and I can take it away from this island, at that 325-degree setting._

Walt no longer had his locator, it having been destroyed in the Swan Hatch implosion. He figured moving to higher ground was a good idea to get a better sense of his bearings. He started climbing a vaguely familiar hill, when he heard the boar behind him again. _Oh, no! _Walt ran the rest of the way up the hill, hoping the boar couldn't climb fast, but the boar matched Walt's speed. Then Walt recognized the location that he had approached from the opposite direction so many days before. _The leaf pit! I have a chance!_

Walt tore down the inside slope of the valley, and as he got close, jumped in the air, and curled up in a ball as if performing a cannonball dive. It worked; he hit the center of the leaf pile and plummeted straight to the bottom four meters down, with the leaves cushioning his landing. The boar arrived at the ridge, peered down, and saw Walt disappear from sight, and not reappear. The boar squealed in fright, remained for a minute, and then ran off, afraid of disappearing forever like his prey just did.

Walt waited fifteen minutes after the boar's noises stopped, and then climbed out from under the leaves. He had just gotten out when another noise spooked him, and he jumped back in, sinking into the leaves to his chest. He froze, and determined that the noise was just two branches scraping in the wind. He then made swimming motions to get to the side, to avoid falling all the way down again. _Who'd have believed it? Skinny-dipping in a leaf pit._ He did drop down a meter before reaching the side, but climbed out successfully this time. The sun was getting low in the sky, about an hour before sunset.

Walt's thoughts turned to clothing and shelter again. In view of the boar attack, at the moment shelter seemed more important. _If there aren't any people, I don't need clothes yet. I still may have destroyed all non-plant life. No! That boar was alive. Animals lived through that explosion, or implosion, or whatever. There still could be people here._

His spirits brightened up when he saw what looked like confirmation of his last thought. A sign of human life – a doll or stuffed animal was lying on the ground. He bent down to pick it up. It stuck on something, and he had to yank hard on it to free it. A second later he wished he hadn't. To his surprise, a net suddenly closed up around him. The doll flew out of his hands as he tried to do something, but the trap was very well crafted. A hundred kilograms of stones and boulders fell to the ground, connected to a rope that hoisted up the net in which Walt was caught. A loop at the top of the net cinched tight, and Walt found himself suspended four meters above the jungle floor.

"Oh come on, what is this doing here? Give me a break!"

Being found trapped naked in a net would be just too humiliating, so Walt tried everything he could to get out. He flailed until he got to a more comfortable position, sitting at the bottom of the net. He tried to untie the knots of the lattice, but they were far too tight. If only he had a knife … but he still had nothing. He bit on the ropes, but that only made his jaw ache. He rocked from side to side, risking a four-meter drop, but the vertical support rope, which extended from the top of the net, over a branch, and then over another branch before another net holding the heavy stones, held. He looked at the top to see how the trap was constructed. A rope had been passed through loops along the perimeter of the net and cinched tight by Walt's weight. He stood up, and climbed to the top. He reached through a gap with one hand, grasping the vertical support rope, and pulled on the loop with his other, but there was too much friction to overcome, even when he got his weight to one side. He dropped back down, standing at the bottom, in defeat.

"Okay, you got me. Now can you please let me out?"

When no one answered, Walt tried, "Jacob, you there? Aren't you supposed to help me?"

_Maybe I'm not getting any help because I blew up the hatch._

As the sun sank below the horizon, Walt realized there was one thing he could do.

_At least it's easy to pee through this._

He relieved himself while he could still see what he was doing. A few minutes later, it was totally dark as clouds rolled across the sky. Walt resigned himself to the inevitable_. I don't believe this._ _I'm going to have to sleep here in the nude. _Thoroughly annoyed at his humiliating position, Walt tried to think of something positive. After a couple minutes, he did. _Hey_,_ at least boars and polar bears can't get to me up here. I may have lost everything, literally, but should consider myself lucky; I'm alive, and healthy, and found a decent shelter. I could easily have been dead by now._

In an improved frame of mind, Walt tried to sleep, but he would not fall asleep quickly. He tried lying on his back, treating the net like a hammock, but his head and feet wound up too high and near each other. Rolling onto his side was better, as long as he drew his knees up close to his face. But the knots at the intersections of the ropes dug uncomfortably into his side, so he would roll to his other side every so often. Movement was awkward in the dark in such a confined space. He tossed and turned for a couple hours before getting some decent sleep, though even that was intermittent until the last four hours before dawn.


	14. The Near Great Escape

Walt gets wet, and devises a plan to escape the net.

* * *

Walt woke up to a pounding rain. Before he was fully awake he tried to bat the heavy drops away from his face, only to be pummeled everywhere else on his body. He tried to sit up, and found it difficult, in part due to an aching back. Then he remembered where he was, trapped in the net like a dumb animal. A bit of delirium took over his thoughts: _At least if I have to be naked, I may as well take a shower._

Occasional shouts for help had no chance against the volume of the store. Walt lay back as comfortably as he could with his head in his hands, a multitude of raindrops relentlessly pounding his body. He thought to open his mouth and was able to drink enough water to last the day that way. From time to time he turned over, letting his backside get an equal dose of the onslaught. _This actually feels all right, like a massage. I could last several days in here,_ Walt thought as he closed his eyes and made the best of it.

Hour after hour the deluge persisted. Walt couldn't have been more soaked if he had been in a swimming pool. There were periods of great intensity, when it felt like bathtubs full of water were being dumped on him. He made more attempts to free himself from this demeaning prison, pulling and biting at ropes, but met the same results as the previous day. Walt found the best way to deal with the situation was to laugh at himself, picturing the scene as viewed from an outside observer. _I bet I look ridiculous. Like some dummy that doesn't know enough to get out of the rain._

"Hey Jacob, you going to give me a hand out of here?"

Walt said that with a wry smile as an afterthought, not expecting any reply. He figured Jacob was upset at him for destroying the Swan Hatch. Having to fend for himself, Walt continued to adjust his position periodically to alleviate developing aches. His back was getting the worst of it, and he found it better to stand for periods of time. But even standing proved difficult due to the onslaught on his shoulders, and the ropes of the net were uncomfortably digging into his feet. He could jump up at try hanging by his hands, but figured he could only last a few minutes that way, and would use up energy unnecessarily. He came up with another idea. Grasping the net as high as he could reach, he swung his feet up next to his hands, worked them into the spaces of the net, and carefully climbed down with his hands, then let go, so that he was hanging freely upside down.

"AAAAHHHHHHHH."

Almost immediately his back felt much better. His weight was being used to stretch his spine instead of to compress it, and that made a huge difference. He rolled his shoulders to work the kinks out of his back, and then hung loose, not caring how ridiculous he looked. He closed his eyes, and let the pounding raindrops massage his aching feet. _This is why some people like those exercise bars that let you hang upside-down._

But after half an hour the ropes were digging in too hard on Walt's ankles. He tried a vertical sit-up, but his hands slipped off his legs, leaving him stretched out again. _Ha ha, I'm stuck like this._ But Walt could reach the sides of the net just by reaching forward, and with a laborious process climbed with his hands until he was bent over double. He worked one foot free with one hand, while holding onto the net with the other, and then repeated the process switching hands and feet. Hanging by his hands, his hands slipped on the slick ropes, sliding down to knots, before he dropped the short distance to the bottom.

Feeling refreshed, Walt was confidant he could endure his cell in the air for quite some more time. As he did earlier, he lay on his back and tried to turn the net into a hammock. He titled his mouth upward again to drink more water. With his head cradled in his hands, he considered the possibilities. _The wind could break this tree branch. Or the tree could be struck by lightning, and fall down. I can survive that if I survived the hatch implosion. The island needs me, it's not going to kill me now._ Calmer than before, he let his front side take a pounding for another half hour before deciding to change position. He reached up to pull himself up, but his hands slipped on the wet ropes, just to the next knots. It was similar to when he was hanging by his hands for an instant.

Then the vital thought struck him: _The ropes are slippery now! Maybe I can move them._ With renewed energy, he scrabbled up a side of the net as he did the day before. Getting his weight all to one side, and crouching, he stuck one hand through a gap to seize the main supporting rope, and with the other the knot at the top. It took several efforts but finally the knot began to loosen. Slowly and surely Walt increased the size of the loop, until it was large enough to get his body through. With a measured thrust, he propelled his body upward so that he was out to his waist. His strength then faltered, and the loop at the top of the net cinched tightly around his waist. He had to rest a couple more minutes, the rain pounding him all the while. Then with renewed determination, he grabbed the loop again while leaning forward and pushing with his feet. This got him out to his knees, and a little more wriggling left him free of the net, grasping the exterior.

Walt was very proud of himself, but there was still work to be done. He was still six meters from the ground. Looking around, there were no branches within reach that he could climb down, so he carefully climbed down the outside of the net, his hands and feet nearly coming together at the bottom. Then he stepped off with his feet, and hung by his hands. Wanting the drop to be as short as possible, he climbed down hand over hand until he was hanging from the very bottom of the net. The ground was now two meters below his feet.

Before letting go, Walt observed that the straightening of his back once again felt good. He had been confined in awkward positions for twenty-five hours, and having his spine stretched by his own body weight, this time right side up and not having to conserve his strength, was quite a relief. He shrugged his shoulders one at a time and twisted all he could, working most of the last kinks out of his back. All in all, he hung there for four minutes before deciding it was time to drop. _The rain probably softened the ground some, it should be a soft landing. _Smiling in triumph, Walt got a good look at the distance, and let go.

SPLLLLOOOOOSSSSSHHH!

Walt's prediction of a soft landing was something of an understatement. Before he could think he had sunk in the now saturated earth up to his waist. Panicking, he tried to lift his right leg out. While he succeeded in lifting it two centimeters, the effort drove his left leg three centimeters deeper into the mud. Reflexively he lifted his leg up, with the symmetric result. He noted there were no branches or roots within reach as he continued to struggle, his stomach disappearing centimeter by centimeter until he was in up to his chest. Close to exhaustion, he stopped moving and had time to think. _What was it they said in science class? Struggling only makes you sink deeper, until what was it? You displace as much mud as your body weight? _In any case, he couldn't help chide,

"Jacob, are you trying to be funny?"

In any event, Walt stood still, and stopped sinking perceptibly. He didn't want to admit it, but it felt real good_._ The squishy mud soothed the spots on his body sore from contact with knots from the net. The raindrops felt like a massage on his shoulders, and Walt was able to relax in his mud bath. However, his head and shoulders continued to be bombarded by rain pellets, which still softened the mud some and drove him in deeper, but only by tiny increments. In one more hour the sun set behind the dark clouds, but the rain continued. Walt wanted to stay awake, but was still feeling the effects of sleep deprivation from his stint alone in the hatch. After another hour couldn't keep his eyes open in the pitch darkness, and drifted off with his arms spread out resting on the supersaturated ground.

Millimeter by millimeter downward he went, when by a stroke of luck he was woken by a tickling sensation when the surface of the mud reached his nipples. Annoyed that he chuckled at being tickled in this manner, he had the sense to push the mud away from his chest so that he could breath easily in case the mud hardened when it stopped raining. At first he could feel the mud filling the space back in, but he persevered, and a few minutes later it did indeed stop raining. Walt made some small movements and realized he couldn't get out until the ground hardened some, hopefully not too much to trap him. To prevent this, he twisted, giving his body a little space, and importantly breathing room. While it cost him a few more millimeters, it was worth it. He yawned, and realized that he had to wait for daylight to see what he was doing. For the second night in a row Walt was condemned to sleep in the nude in a rather undignified position, but that was unimportant. What mattered was he had successfully used his brains to overcome the hazards of the Island.


	15. Sea of Green

Walt's adventures continue, with more visions, and a sojourn into a strange sea of green from which it is difficult to leave.

* * *

The sun had already been up in the sky for a couple hours when Walt woke up to an overpowering urge: _I have to pee._ Having drunk so much water from the storm the day before, nature was bound to take its course. Unfortunately for Walt he found himself buried upright to his armpits in the ground. One frantic push told him he was not getting out in a hurry, and he was forced to endure an unpleasant feeling of liquid trickling down his legs. He tried to think positively. _At least I don't have pants to wet. Now I got out of the pit and the net, so I can get out of this._

Walt rested his chin on his hands with his arms on the surface for a few minutes, taking in the situation. Then he looked up at the net, still nearly four meters above his head. He twisted his head, looking for branches or vines, anything within reach that might help him. By this time he was not surprised to find nothing. The space he had cleared out the night before in front of his chest was mostly there, so breathing was not a problem. Furthermore, some of the space he created around his body with his last-minute rocking was still there, giving himself a little freedom of movement for which he was grateful. He grabbed at the earth in front of him, pulled handfuls of it loose, and tossed it as far as he could to the side. He scooped away more of the moist dirt from around his sides, but it was hard for him to reach around his back. He created some space there by rocking back and forth. His situation had improved, with the surface within arm's length flat, about two decimeters below the main ground surface, and at the bottom of his chest.

Walt scratched his chest lightly, not having realized how much he was itching. _This is like when I was buried in the sand in Chad. I can get out the same way._ He geared up for another attempt to push himself out by placing his palms on the ground beside, and straining, pushing up with his arms and toes. He felt himself rise a few millimeters, but that was it. _I need more leverage_. This time he made fists with his hands, and placed the first knuckles of four fingers on each hand on the surface, and kept his wrists straight, thereby gaining almost ten more centimeters of leverage. He steeled himself again, and pushed hard. His body rose several centimeters, when suddenly the ground below his fists gave way. Pressing so hard, Walt couldn't react before his arms shot down their full length along his sides into the soil as he feet when back down to the bottom. His initial effort to pull them back up failed, as his arms were in past the elbows and pinned to his sides. Walt growled in disgust.

Out of breath, Walt was compelled to stand there for a few minutes until he got another wind. His thoughts took a macabre turn. _What if I really am the last person on Earth? There'll be nobody around to bury me. If I stay here the Island will have practically buried me. Better than dying in that pit or the net. _Walt closed his eyes, and soon heard some unintelligible whispers, seemingly from around him. When he opened his eyes, a boy around seventeen years old was standing in front of him. Walt recognized him as being one of the villagers when Walt had been held captive by Ben.

"Karl! How did you get here? Never mind, I need a hand."

Walt and Karl had never had a real conversation before. About the only times their paths had crossed was when one was being taken to Room 23, and the other escorted from there. But if this was Karl, that wouldn't have happened yet in his sense of time.

The figure spoke, but it did not sound quite like what Walt was expecting.

"Walter. Didn't your parents tell you not to play in mud puddles? Silly boy, you get what you deserve."

"What? I wasn't playing. I was caught in a net, and then fell in here when it was pouring. I'm stuck, so could you please help?"

"You destroyed the Swan and expect help? But in any case it's against the rules."

"What rules? Are you for real, or are you a ghost?"

"The Island has rules that none of us can break. We cannot help you physically. As for whether I am real … you will have to decide for yourself."

"Well can you answer some questions? Is there anyone else alive on Earth?"

"You will have to find that out for yourself."

"Thanks for nothing. Say, can you at least tell me what happened to Desmond? Why didn't he come back with help?"

Karl, or at least his image, circled the trapped boy before responding.

"Your friend Desmond did try to come back with help, but you forgot to tell him the correct bearing."

Walt would have slapped himself on the forehead if his arms hadn't been trapped.

"You mean the 305 degrees? Argh! So all this stuff that's happened to me … because I didn't tell Desmond that?"

"You can look at it that way."

Walt gritted his teeth. He shrugged his shoulders in an attempt to free his arms, but failed again.

"Look, I'm stuck. So what happens now?"

"You have to help yourself now. Prove yourself worthy of the Island.

"Worthy? I had to climb out of a deep hole and get out of a net already. Isn't that enough?"

"It shows you have potential. But you must develop it further."

An idea struck Walt.

"Hey, are you Jacob, in Karl's form? If I'm supposed to save the Island, why don't you give me some help?"

Karl sadly shook his head.

"I cannot answer that. And you do not understand yet. You must provide for yourself. The Island has resources, but you must earn then."

"You're crazy! Look, there's a vine attached to a tree over there. Just move it right in front of me, and I'll get my arms out, and pull myself out … Hey, where'd you go?"

Walt had turned his head to look for vines, and when he turned back, Karl was gone.

_There's no way he could move that fast. I must have dreamed it. Or maybe I'm losing it. I'm the one going crazy because I'm the only one alive here._

"Nooo!"

Walt shook himself out of his daydream, if that's what it was. Anger overtook him, directed at Karl for abandoning him, whether or not Karl was real. Walt shrugged his shoulders and rocked hard side to side and front to back, and in a couple minutes had enough space to free his arms. He pounded his chest as a sign of imminent victory. He seized clumps of earth from around his body and flung them away as far as he could. His hands were getting raw, but he didn't care. In a quarter hour he was clear to his waist, and was reminded of similar positions in the Sahara and the pit from the Swan Hatch implosion. On this occasion the trapping material was firmer and denser, and it took more effort to twist his lower body violently to free additional space for his legs. But he actually was much better rested than in the previous weeks, and there was a little room to start with thanks to his foresight the previous evening. In another fifteen minutes the earth gave away enough to let him turn more than ninety degrees, although he strained his back in the process. Placing his palms on the sides of the conical hole he had formed, and making sure the earth was firm enough to push off against, he pushed hard, and brought his legs out of the hole, and made an unexpected discovery.

_I forgot I was naked. But no more._

"Take that, Karl!" shouted Walt into the air, words that no one heard. With more confidence, Walt, caked with mud and dirt, strode through the jungle, watching out for traps, and looking for food and anything that could be used as clothing. He stopped to listen for boars from time to time, but didn't hear any sign of animal life. After an hour of hiking, he came upon a mango tree grove. He had to climb to reach the juicy fruit, but did so without difficulty. From the higher perspective, he sought to get his bearings, and saw a large grassy patch to the northeast, beyond a small stream.

_That's better! I can wash up and make a good grass skirt out of that. About time I got a break._

Walt climbed down, and headed first toward the stream. He drank some water and lay down in the stream for several minutes, and got clean once more. Refreshed, he then made his way to the patch he had seen. The height of the grass plants surprised him, as he found they towered well over his head. He walked casually deep into the grove, letting himself be engulfed, and reveling in the surreal experience. Quickly a strange aroma, as if from some sort of narcotic, enveloped him. He spun around, losing his sense of direction. He laughed at his absurd situation – butt-naked, lost, and possibly the last living human being – and he didn't care. He walked around aimlessly with his arms outspread, letting the two-meter long blades rub against his body. It felt like some kind of soothing medicinal treatment. He lost track of time and his sense of purpose, ambling about for a solid hour while making no effort to escape the sea of green. Eventually he became light-headed and lay down on his back with his head in his hands. The experience was intoxicating, and Walt might have lain there forever.

_I heard the stories – Australian Aborigine boys, sometimes my age, would go out alone in the Outback. They called it a walkabout. Sometimes they would be naked, but these days they'd probably have a loincloth, those tribes that still do it. Wandering about alone for weeks and months, and if a guy came back alive, he would be considered a man._

Lost in his daydream, Walt didn't notice the approach of a mysterious black cloud, accompanied by a metallic clanking noise, until it was upon him. The wind picked up, and the blades of grass whipped across his body. The gale prevented Walt from sitting up, and his efforts to shield his face were thwarted by the grass entangling his arms. The cloud engulfed him, making his world dark, and then stunned him for a minute. There were fleeting images within the smoke, but Walt was too muddle-headed to make any of them out. Then the cloud was gone, but not without strange repercussions.

Seconds after the black cloud departed, Walt regained full consciousness. He meant to get up, but somehow the cloud had caused the grass to twist several times around his wrists and ankles, and tethered him to the ground in a surprisingly moderately tight spread-eagle. He pulled with his arms and legs, and squirmed, and wriggled, and writhed, but not only did it appear that his strength had been sapped by the cloud, the struggle made his situation worse. He tugged some more at the tightening thick grass blades, but was fighting a losing battle to keep his limbs from being fully stretched out, and soon found he couldn't bend his limbs at all. It took much more effort that he anticipated to wiggle his fingers and toes, or move his head from side to side to determine what was going on. _What just happened?_ _This doesn't make sense._

Thoroughly confounded and unable to budge, Walt lay on the ground, just able to see intermittent pieces of sky through the tall grass as it blew gently in a light breeze. It felt like his spine was being stretched, and that something actually snapped back into place, realigning the last piece of his vertebrate he had strained while extracting himself from the ground. Walt tried bargaining with the unseen force.

"Okay, my back is much better, thank you, you can let go now."

There was no answer. He wasn't in pain, and had to admit his back felt better than it had been for the last couple days. Still, it wasn't preferable to being able to move. _This must be a crazy dream. I'll wake up and have a laugh at this, tied down to the ground by grass._ Walt laughed and closed his eyes, and fell asleep for an hour.

But when Walt woke up, he was still securely bound spread-eagled to the ground. He dismissed thoughts of calling for help. Based on his past experience, a wild animal was more likely to find him than a human, and if a person did find him, Walt figured he could die of embarrassment. He continued to lie there immobilized, trying to determine if the Island was trying to tell him something, and whether or not he was actually awake, or perhaps paralyzed.

He lay there a good hour, confused and frustrated. Then his nose began to itch. He wanted to scratch it, but had no chance. He crinkled his nose, but couldn't stop the sensation from intensifying. His breathing became heavy, and soon …

"AAAACHOOOO!"

Walt's violent sneeze had caused his body to contract so powerfully that the grass binding his hands and feet was uprooted. From a sitting position he stared in disbelief at the blades wrapped around his wrists and ankles, but no longer anchored in the soil. He unwrapped these, and got to his knees, a bit dizzy.

_Did that really happen? Was that all a dream?_

Soon his head cleared, and he set about the business of why he was here in the first place. Standing up, he grabbed several of the intact long blades, and yanked them from the ground without difficulty. Realizing that twisting them would increase their strength, he twisted them together, and wrapped them twice around his waist. Next, he took a few more blades, and tried to pass them through the waistband. He found the band was too tight, and had to try again, this time making the waistband fit just above the widest part of his hips. Now he was able to stuff many handfuls of grass between the makeshift grass belt and his skin. Some of the grass blades were threaded through both the front and back of the waistband, and between his legs, to avoid accidental indecency. He tied the ends of these blades together underneath to increase his garment's stability. It took longer than he guessed, as many more blades of the long grass were required to cover the skin all the way around. At the end, he broke off the ends to make the skirt uniform, ending a few centimeters above his knees.

He was still lost in the sea of two-meter high grass, but Walt picked a direction, and focused on walking a straight line. In a couple minutes he was out, and enjoying the sunshine. _This is more like it. This skirt is fine temporarily, and now maybe I can find some animal skins for better shorts and a shirt._

It was now early afternoon, and Walt had to figure out what to do. He chose to head west, as it would be easy to follow the sun. He planned to keep going until he hit a beach, and then north and maybe find a boat as he had planned before, after getting out of the pit. However, along the way he encountered a definite sign of life. A thick cable was lying on the jungle floor. Walt had no idea what it was, but felt he had to find out. The cable lay in a northwest-southeast orientation, and Walt chose to go northwest as that led to higher ground, and it would be easier to do that part of the hike first.

Walt followed the cable for close to a kilometer, when his improved senses spotted a tripwire lying across the path. _I'm not falling for another net trap! _Walt stepped carefully over the wire, overly proud of himself. But his confidence wasn't fully justified. He took another step, and felt a stick or branch snap under his foot. Looking down, he just had time to see a loop of rope close around his ankles. During the next second, his feet were yanked off the ground, and he swung wildly in an arc that culminated in his head hitting the trunk of the tree, a branch of which the rope trap was anchored to. The impact knocked him unconscious, leaving him dangling upside-down. Consequently he had no chance to hear the approaching footsteps, although it was likely the approaching entity walked quietly enough not to be heard.


	16. Chez Rousseau

Authors' notes: Good guess on the captor, all4jesus. Walt will get more help and answers in the chapter after this. I'm trying to speed this up more.

* * *

Walt meets an old friend who provides shelter, though not spectacular accommodations.

* * *

Danielle Rousseau's patience had finally paid off. After years of setting and checking traps, the Frenchwoman caught one of the Others. The male was dangling upside-down with both feet caught in a noose, and was unconscious. _Finally! Now I may get some answers. What have they done with my daughter, and why are they trying to kill me?_

Poor Danielle was certifiably insane, having spent more than fifteen years alone on the Island. She never found out what happened to her daughter Alex, stolen a week after she was born. Over the years, Danielle had scouted much of the Island, but had never gone past the security perimeter, a structure that frightened her. Once in a while she got a look at people in ragged clothes, but they were always in groups and armed. But finally one of them may have gotten careless.

Danielle dragged a hand-made wooden sled, crafted from several stout tree branches, from her bunker, her home for most of the past fifteen-plus years. She placed handcuffs around her victim's wrists before cutting the support rope and lowering him down onto the sled. She secured him to the sled by tying ropes around his ankles and waist, and then dragged him back to her bunker. She untied the ropes and hoisted him onto the frame of the remains of a box spring, and repositioned the handcuffs so he had very limited mobility. She then went to another room and waited, organizing her thoughts.

Walt didn't realize where he was when he woke up with a headache. Aware of all the bizarre things that had happened to him recently and how panicking wouldn't help, he managed to remain calm. He was flat on his back and there was an odd strain in his arms, which were over his head. He tried to raise them and sit up, and found he couldn't. Reflexively, he tried to pull his feet up, but was dismayed to find he couldn't do that as well. _Am I still in that crazy grass field? No, this feels different, and that isn't sky or grass up there. That's some kind of ceiling, and I can move a little. Where am I? _Walt realized that he must be inside some structure for the first time in three days. Perplexed, he turned his head to look, seeing metal objects around his wrists.

"Handcuffs?"

Walt jangled his arms, and found that he hand indeed been handcuffed to some kind of frame, probably a bed frame. He raised his head, and was able to see cuffs around his ankles as well. He could only move his feet a decimeter or two, the same as his hands. He blinked his eyes, hoping this was a bad dream, but when he opened them, he found that it was real. In dread, he lifted his head up to determine what, if anything, he was wearing. He wasn't happy to find he was still bare-chested, but upon craning his neck further, heaved a sigh of relief when he saw his grass skirt was intact.

Settling down, Walt thought about how he might escape this predicament. He bounced his butt up and down, feeling a spring sensation. He concluded he was lying on a thin sheet on top of an old bed frame. While that particular bit of information wasn't terribly helpful, he had another, possibly more useful thought. _Maybe these are toy handcuffs._ Walt reached with his hands for the links around the bed frame, searching for the safety releases that are a part of children's toy cuffs. Finding no such releases, he tried to bring his hands together, so that one hand could search the cuff around the opposite wrist, but that effort was blocked by the ends of the springs where they were connected to the frame. It didn't matter; all four sets of handcuffs could only be opened by keys.

Frustrated, Walt pulled on the cuffs, but stopped when he felt metal digging into his wrists and ankles. Giving up, he lay still to collect his thoughts and analyze the situation. It wasn't painful, with a little freedom of movement and his body and limbs more in an H shape than a spread-eagle, but it was so annoying to be so helpless. Then another important realization came to mind. _Someone did this to me. I'm not alone! I'm not the last person on Earth! _Aware of whom he was, he was more confident in shouting,

"Hey, I'm awake! Who are you, and why did you do this to me?"

Her hearing still sharp, Danielle easily heard the outburst. She had to process the words though. _That language is English. One of the languages spoken by the Others._ She sat quietly for fifteen minutes, her mind preparing questions in English, and expecting her captive to be more eager to talk if he had to wait.

For Walt, there was no answer for a quarter of an hour. He puzzled over who was his captor. His thoughts turned to Room 23 and the series of experiments Ben had ordered. Strapped to a chair, and forced to watch a wide range of images. But at least then Walt had real clothes, and he had never been handcuffed. His train of thought was broken when a woman with straggly dark brown hair in ragged clothes entered his room with a supply of food and water. Setting those down, she kept her rifle in her hands and approached Walt, who surprisingly recognized her.

"You … Danielle Rousseau! Why did you do this to me?"

Danielle was alarmed. She had never seen the boy before in her life, and he knew her name? The enemy must have told him about her. She took the rifle, and placed the barrel against Walt's throat.

"How do you know my name?"

Walt couldn't see that Danielle wasn't holding the trigger, and consequently he was terrified.

"How do I know? We met … I was from the plane crash. Sayid found you, and you came to our beach, don't you remember?"

Danielle looked at the boy strangely. She dragged the barrel of her rifle down from Walt's throat to his navel while trying to make sense of what he said. Walt shuddered as the barrel crossed his stomach. Danielle responded,

"There has been no plane crash. I do not know this Sayid. Now tell me the truth. Who are you?"

"My name is Walt Lloyd. I was on the plane …" _Crud. That hasn't crashed yet. She's going to think I'm crazy. I need another story. But how can I explain that I knew her name? She's going to keep me chained up, like she did Sayid._

"I'm sorry; I hit my head, and must have had a bad dream. I was canoeing from another island, and there was this terrible storm yesterday, and it blew me off course, and I washed up here."

Danielle was expecting a lie, and Walt's rapid heartbeat, plainly visible through his exposed chest, only confirmed her suspicions. She withdrew the rifle, but was certain she had done the right thing in putting him in chains.

"Do not lie to me! I know who you are. You are one of the Others. Why are you trying to kill me?"

Walt tried to reason with Danielle. _Maybe she'll forget I knew her name._

"Me try to kill you? And an Other? Do I look like an Other to you? If I were going to kill you, would I dress like this? I obviously don't have any weapons. And … I'm only thirteen!"

Danielle took some time to consider her captive's arguments.

"The Others usually wear rags, but certainly more than you, so you may be right … NO! That's exactly what they would do! Send the least likely looking assassin. You must have a weapon hidden nearby."

This was not going well for Walt. He tried to change the subject.

"Could you please tell me what day this is? Or at least the year."

Danielle looked lost in space.

"The day … time does not matter on this island. It has been forever … " _since__ you people took away my Alex._

Danielle looked at Walt, and could only think of Alex. Danielle's demeanor changed, she walked up to Walt, placed her hand on his chest, and patted it, murmuring,

"Alex, what happened to you?"

Walt twitched, confused.

"What? I'm not Alex. But I'm sure she's alive."

_And I might know where she is. If Danielle is here, then Ben and all those Others should be here. Desmond was wrong; we were not alone on this island._

Danielle didn't pay attention, and moved her hand so that she was rubbing Walt's stomach.

"How could you leave me, Alex?"

Walt determined that Danielle was currently delusional. _Does she think I'm Alex?_

"You don't want to see Alex chained up? Please release me."

Danielle looked confused, and then snapped, "You're not Alex! Leave me alone!"

Danielle stormed off into another part of her bunker, lay down on her bed, and cried.

For the next hour Walt could only lie there and plan how he could get out of his situation. _Danielle is mentally unstable and dangerous. As long as she has weapons like guns I have to be very careful. I have to win her trust, and do what she says. That will be hard, since I blurted out her name. There's no way she'll believe me if I tell her the truth, that I came from the future, but she could tell I was lying before. What should I say?_

After the hour Danielle returned, having dried away her tears.

"Are you ready to tell the truth?"

"I … I know it's hard to believe, but this is what I think happened. I was in a plane crash on this island, and some of us met you. Some of us got off, but then we had to come back. Something strange happened, and I got sent back in time. I know it sounds crazy, but I really think that's what happened."

Danielle frowned. The story was preposterous. Yet when she looked into Walt's eyes, it appeared that he was telling the truth. Furthermore, his heart beat steadily, unlike before when he had clearly lied.

_The boy thinks he is telling the truth. He must be ill, or the Others have done something to him._

"You say you are from the future? You are ill, my child. What have the Others done to you?"

"I … I don't know. Yes, they did do some things to me, and I don't remember them well. But can you please let me up? I have to eat, and … use the bathroom."

Danielle wasn't sure how to proceed with the questioning, but that could wait for tomorrow. She did not want the intruder to stink up her residence, but she was not about to let him escape and provide information about her to the Others.

"Very well. I will let you up and take you outside, but if you try to run I will shoot you."

"Thank you. I promise I won't run away."

Danielle had her own ideas on making sure Walt would not run away. She reached under the bed and pulled out a set of leg irons, two metal cuffs connected by a chain half a meter long, and placed those on Walt's lower legs, just above the handcuffs. Then she took a key from a drawer she had fashioned and unlocked the two sets of handcuffs from the rail over Walt's head, and linked the free ends together, leaving Walt's hands cuffed in front of him. Only then did she unlock the links of the handcuffs from around Walt's ankles. She took told of her rifle once more.

"All right, outside. And don't try anything."

"I promise I won't. I certainly don't want to be out alone in the jungle in chains like this."

Given the circumstances, Walt put up no resistance. Any false move near the demented woman could result in him getting shot. He sat up carefully, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and stood up. His hands were far enough apart that he was able to straighten out his grass skirt. He would have much preferred having something better to wear, but this was not the time to ask Danielle for anything. He walked slowly up some steps and outside, where he was able to relieve himself behind some bushes. Danielle respected Walt's privacy and kept her distance, but they both knew if Walt tried to run he wouldn't get far. When Walt was done, he came back as promised.

"There. Now about food. There's some fruit on trees around here, but it's hard to climb them like this. "

"Do not concern yourself about that for now. I have enough for both of us. Come."

Danielle took Walt back to near her bunker, where she reached into a bin and took out two bananas. She tossed one to Walt, and ate the other herself. Despite the handcuffs, it was easy for Walt to catch the fruit, peel it, and eat it. It was strange eating like that, but he was hungry and not about to complain.

The sun was now just touching the horizon in the west.

"Inside," Danielle commanded simply. Continuing his plan of cooperation, and still scared in general, Walt smoothly walked down the steps back into the bunker.

"Now get on the bed frame, and chain your feet to the rail like before."

Walt looked disappointed at Danielle, but wasn't going to disobey the woman with a high-powered firearm. He got up on the bed, swung his legs over, and reattached the handcuffs whose other links had been left locked around the frame.

"Okay, now what?" Walt questioned, sitting somewhat awkwardly on the sheet covering the springs of the bed frame.

"You can have some meat for dinner, and then you must sleep. There are wild boars on this island, and I hunt them for food."

"Oh, yes, I saw one or two of them the last few days. Thank you."

Danielle made a fire and cooked some pieces of boar meat on a small stove salvaged from her ship. Walt's cooperation had paid off, at least in the short term, as he was getting some much-needed protein. Still, at some point he was going to have to break away from this prison. He felt sorry for Danielle, and wanted to be able to help her find Alex. That wasn't going to happen while he was in chains, but he realized he had to be patient, and seize the opportunity when the time was right.

When they were done eating and drinking some water Danielle had periodically collected from a nearby stream and stored in bottles, she had one more request.

"Lie back, and raise your arms over your head."

Walt did so, though he dreaded what was coming. As expected, Danielle unlocked the cuffs from each other, and relocked them to the rail over his head. At no time was either wrist not surrounded by a link. _Sort of like Jin's hand for several days. He was crazy for a while. Like Dad, and Danielle … this island sure does things to people._ Walt wanted to protest, dreading the prospect of spending the night in only his grass skirt and four sets of handcuffs, but was too scared to ask for something like a large shirt. He slid his hands and feet several centimeters from side to side, stopping when the cuffs ran up against the ends of the springs anchored into the frame. The limited freedom of movement would be enough to allow him to sleep, though it might not be too comfortable. He took a deep breath, and sighed.

"So, I'm going to sleep like this, and see you in the morning?"

"That is correct," replied Danielle.

Danielle turned off a lantern and returned to another room to her own bed. Walt was left in pitch darkness with his thoughts. _Man, all these cuffs is really overdoing it. I feel so stupid. I should have asked for a blanket or sheet, but at least it's still very warm. Living with Desmond was so much better. _Walt tried to find a silver lining. _I have to accept the situation and wait for my chance. It could be worse; I did get shelter and food._ _I managed a night in that net and being tied to the ground by that smoke thing; I can handle this._ With that, Walt was finally able to fall asleep.


	17. Tale of the Black Smoke

Author's Notes:

I corrected the misspelling of Ji Yeon in Chapter 1, thanks Annara. All4jesus, Walt's getting some answers and help is postponed to the next chapter to update what is happening with the Oceanics.

* * *

The black smoke reveals some things to the Oceanics while Walt has a hard time with Danielle.

* * *

Time had become immeasurable for those lost in the black smoke on the freighter. Nevertheless, at some point there was a flash of purple light, and the smoke split into two parts, one surrounding Widmore and his crew, and the other surrounding all those who had been on the fateful flight or on the Island at the time of the crash. Sawyer managed a shout,

"What in blazes is going on here?"

No one could see each other, but the smoke allowed voices to penetrate, as if they were roughly evenly spaced around a circle.

"Quiet," insisted Ben. Staring into the smoke, he asked, "Jacob, can you tell us what is happening?"

Ben was doubtful that his request would yield a response, but soon the smoke rearranged to form a blurry image -- that of Walt lying in the bottom of a deep hole.

Sun gasped. "Is that Walt ... is he ..."

"Don't jump to conclusions," warned Ben. "Actually, I doubt we would still be in this form if Walt were."

"But what happened to him?"

"I think I know," contributed Hurley. "That looks like the Swan Hatch did after it imploded. Like it did around Desmond. Blew all his clothes off, but he wasn't hurt. And ... he didn't end up in the hole left over. Poor little dude Walt, though."

"Walt's pretty athletic," added Jack. "If he isn't hurt, I think he can climb out of there if he has too."

"Yes," agreed Ben. "Our testing indicated he was in good shape. Spending time on the Island, er, appeared to enhance his abilities. Locke showed some of the same traits."

Then the smoke whirled around again, and after some more time – seconds ... minutes ... hours? it was impossible to tell -- it rearranged again, and showed Walt in Danielle's net trap. He was apparently struggling, but the image was still blurry. Sun breathed a sigh of relief.

"He's alive, right? That's good."

"Of course it is," replied Kate. "But the poor guy doesn't have a gun or knife or … anything to help him get out." _Like Jack and I did._

"It looks like he got out of the pit, so it's reasonable to assume he can get out of that net," said Jack hopefully.

Then the smoke collapsed, and whirled around again. Another indeterminate amount of time later, it reassembled to show a much clearer image, of Walt handcuffed hand and foot to the bed frame. There were several gasps and winces.

Kate managed to speak. "Looks like he got out of the net, and found something to wear, but who would do that to a child?"

Sayid coughed. "A demented person, one who has lost her grasp on reality and sees all strangers as threats." Sayid reflected a minute. "Do you think there's a pattern here? Apparently Walt has experienced the hatch implosion like Desmond, got caught in a net like Ben, and now chained to a bed like I was?"

Jack added, "Um, Kate and I were also caught in a net for a little while back there, in case that helps."

Kate wasn't thrilled to have that revealed, but under the circumstances Jack was probably right.

"So Linus, what does this all mean?"

"Please be quiet," begged Ben. "Jacob, can you tell me anything? What we can do?"

There was silence, and then Ben answered.

"Jacob is not directly talking to me, but I have this impression. My best guess is that Walt sent the Island too far back in time, and somehow caused the Swan Hatch to implode prematurely. Jacob cannot be happy about that, and as a consequence he is putting Walt through a series of trials, similar to things we have experienced, to see if he's worthy. But I don't know what Walt is expected to do if he gets through all this."

"That isn't fair," commented Hurley. "Little Dude never hurt anyone."

"Actually, that's not quite true," announced Sun. "Walt did burn Michael's first raft, and let Jin take the blame and get beat up over it. But Walt doesn't deserve all this."

"That raft is minor in the grand scheme of things, but I think we can agree that Walt needs help now. So let us all concentrate, and beseech Jacob to help Walt."

There was silence for what seemed like several minutes, and then a feeling of movement overcame the group.

"You think that helped? Does it feel like we're moving?" asked Kate. "Where would we be going?"

Ben answered. "I think that helped. And … there is only one logical place where we might be headed."

"You mean the Island, right?" asked Jack.

"Yes, wherever, and whenever, it is."

Walt awoke a little before dawn when it was still dark. He had slept surprisingly well considering the circumstances. Not wanting to disturb Danielle, he lay still until light filtered into his room, and he could hear Danielle moving about.

"Ms. Rousseau? I'm awake."

Danielle was reminded that her captive somehow knew her name. She walked into Walt's room, and explained,

"Same procedure as yesterday."

She repeated the procedure of unlocking and relocking the handcuffs and leg irons so that Walt could do his business and get some fruit and water for breakfast. Then he was afraid of being led back into the bunker and chained up again.

"Can I please stay outside? I promise I won't run away."

Walt held out his hands, cuffed together by two sets of handcuffs with the links not around his wrists linked to each other, to show that he couldn't get far, but Danielle was still suspicious.

"I can't watch you all day. You'd just go back to your comrades and tell them where I am."

"No I won't; please?" Walt looked up at Danielle with his best puppy dog eyes.

Danielle relented, and thought of another possibility.

"If you insist, go stand in front of that tree."

A bit concerned but happy with an alternative, Walt obeyed. Danielle walked up to him, pulled a key out of a pocket, and unlocked one of the handcuffs. Laying down her rifle for a moment and not letting go of the cuffs, she quickly brought both of Walt's hands behind his back and around the tree, and snapped the open link shut around the closed link of the other set. The tree was fairly thick, and Walt felt some strain in his arms as the handcuffs barely could reach each other.

"Hey, you didn't have to do that!"

Walt fidgeted, tramping his feet about. Danielle, still not completely assured, grabbed the chain of the leg irons and wrapped it around protruding stumps of roots on either side, immobilizing Walt's legs.

"Why are you doing this? I want to help you?"

"You can help by answering my questions now. What are you people planning?"

"I'm not one those people," Walt protested. "I just want to get off this island and go home."

"Why are you here now?"

"I … I told you, the plane crash, and I had to come back, but things got messed up and I just want to get out of here now. I could bring help."

Danielle was not convinced, but this line of questioning wasn't helping. She had another more important concern.

"What have you done with Alex?"

Walt paused to take a breath.

"These people kidnapped her when she was a baby. These people are bad; they kidnapped me too, but I got away. But I'm pretty sure Alex is still there."

Danielle's face showed some hope, as she knew at least part of Walt said was true, but this still could be a trap.

"Where, exactly?"

"In this village way on the north side of this island. Behind a sonic fence that will kill you if you cross it."

Danielle's face showed a mixture of emotions Walt couldn't determine. Walt continued,

"If you let me go I can show you where it is."

"You're trying to trap me! I don't need you to find it." Danielle became agitated, and then pointed out, "You said, 'you're pretty sure Alex is still there.' Where else could she be?"

Walt's bid for freedom hadn't worked. "Uh … no, she has to be there if the plane hasn't crashed yet. It won't be till later when …" _I shouldn't have said that._

"When what?" demanded Danielle. "And don't lie to me."

"Please, it's better I not say."

Walt's reluctance to answer convinced Danielle that Walt was hiding something threatening to her, and that for her safety she needed to keep Walt chained to the tree. She frowned, picked up her rifle, and jabbed it into Walt's sternum.

"Tell me, now."

Walt was terrified.

"A … a few months from now, some terrible men are going to come and … and … kill her. A-and you. And they got my father killed too. I mean will get him killed. Or maybe things won't happen like they did before. I don't know. _I hadn't thought of that, Dad should be alive now? And Vincent, in Australia? What about me? I wish I knew what day this is._

"Devil child!" screamed Rousseau. "Only a demon would know the future! You can't be speaking the truth." Danielle became incoherent. She was more convinced than ever that Walt was dangerous and she had to keep him a prisoner, but didn't want to kill him as he might have some useful information.

"I have matters to attend to. You yell for help, and I will shoot you, and all your friends, understand?"

Danielle poked the barrel of her rifle into Walt's chest again. Walt stammered weakly,

"Y-yes. But, please don't leave me here; I can't move."

Danielle stormed off without answering, convinced in her unstable mind she was doing the only sensible thing. She set about her usual routing of collecting food and water, but the recent stress got to her and she stumbled back to her bunker. Feeling ill, she lay down in her bed, forgetting about the position she left Walt in.

Walt assessed his situation. He strained, but couldn't budge his arms or legs. His shoulder blades were pinned to the tree, and trying to do anything would only scrape the skin off his back. The only real movement he could make was to bang the back of his head on the tree, and a couple light taps didn't help his cause. _I shouldn't have asked to stay outside. Handcuffed to the bed was a lot more comfortable._

With Danielle not returning, hour after hour Walt stood affixed to the tree. Afraid that she might nearby, Walt didn't dare call out for help, or even say anything at all. His shoulders ached more and more, and there was nothing he could do about it. Besides the humiliation, the boredom was excruciating. Watching his toes wiggle became a highlight of his day, while there was no chance he could see his fingers as they were too far behind the tree.

Walt did get to watch the sun move across the sky, from back to front. The hot afternoon sun bore down on him, as he was facing west. The lower angle of elevation of the sun meant he was no longer in the shade, and he began to perspire. He felt a tickle on his throat, and bored out of his skull watched in fascination as a bead of perspiration trickled down the center of his chest, then his stomach, and finished in his navel. For an hour this was his entertainment, and he found he could vary the rate of descent of his sweat by varying his breathing, one of the few things he could do.

As the sun sank low in the sky, Walt closed his eyes to avoid staring at it. Then he heard whispers, very much like the day before when he was mired in the ground. The whispers seemed to be coming from every direction, and he couldn't make out what was being said. _Calm down, it must be another hallucination._


	18. Big Sister

Author's Notes:

All4jesus: I did mean Sawyer. In Chapter 7, Widmore's crew rounded up all those left on the Island, including Sawyer, Richard, Daniel, and several others. In Chapter 8, black smoke engulfed the freighter, sending all into limbo. In Chapter 17, all the plane survivors, Oceanic 6 and those left behind in the Others village were surrounded by one part of the black smoke, so they are all together now. Sorry for not being clearer.

* * *

Walt gets some answers and his spirits lifted by a new visitor.

* * *

Walt was a bit fearful to open his eyes after the whispers stopped, but soon realized he had to sooner or later. On this occasion, he was startled to see a smiling girl, fifteen or sixteen years old, with dark hair and a plain brown outfit, impossibly close to him. She couldn't have sneaked up on him without noticing, or so Walt thought.

"Hello, handsome."

"What … Alex?" Walt had seen Alex a few times, mostly when she was trying to find out what the Others were doing to him when he was their prisoner, but they never had a real conversation. "No, this is impossible. You can't be real. Like Karl. You're just a figment of my imagination."

"So I'm not real, am I?"

Alex suddenly reached out and twisted Walt's nipples.

"Hey – ow! What did you do that for?"

"You claimed I wasn't real. Would you like another demonstration?"

"No! But how can you be … never mind, could you please get me out of here?"

Alex shook her head. "Sorry, that's against the rules. But I can help in other ways."

"What are these rules? That's what Karl said. Look, that Rousseau woman is crazy. She thinks I'm evil and chained me to this tree, and left me. Can't you talk to her, and get the keys or something?"

"I'm afraid my mother will not listen to me. You will have to wait for her to come back."

"And how long will that be? Wait a minute …" _There's something wrong here…got it!_

"Hey, if you're the real Alex, then you don't know Danielle is your mother and alive on this island yet! Who are you really, or what are you?"

Alex, or at least her image, laughed. "Now you're thinking. As for Danielle, I believe she isn't coming back here today."

Walt groaned. Alex continued,

"What you see before you is what your mind thinks Alex would say and do, in combination with what Jacob wants you to know. The Island has looked into your mind, and has assembled millions of tiny particles, which you might think of as nanobots, to create me. These nanobots take on different forms, and are here to help you when you need it – and deserve it. In my case, you didn't know Alex well at all, but based on what you did see you think she would act like a big sister to you."

It was a lot for Walt to swallow. "What? I … that's awful hard to believe. But who is this Jacob?"

"I can't say any more about him, but I can give another demonstration. Close your eyes, and think honestly. If you had a big sister, and she had you tied up shirtless, what do you think she would do to you?"

Walt closed his eyes, half-expecting this image to be gone when he opened them. But he did think, _maybe she'd give me a nipple twist or tickle me._

"Ah ha ha ha he what – hey?"

When Walt opened his eyes, he found not only that Alex hadn't disappeared, but also was indeed tickling him. Lightly going over his stomach and sides with her fingers, she now had an evil smirk on her face. Walt was determined not to go down easily, and a short while enjoyed the battle.

"Ha you can't ah tickle me ha ha AAAH! No fair! HA HA HA. I'm gonna get you HA HA HA …" Walt squirmed, but was hopelessly trapped against the tree. In a couple minutes he had had it. "NO ... AAAHHHH Okay, you win, I believe you!"

Alex stopped, and Walt was left gasping for breath. It took a few minutes to recover.

"It's like you said, I thought what a sister would do, and … you did it."

Alex's face returned to a bright smile. "Glad to see you understand. And please call me Alex; it will be easier on you."

"Okay, Alex. And does that mean I thought Karl would act like a big brother? He sure wasn't helpful, leaving me in the ground. And where were you guys when I was in the pit and the net?"

"We only provide help when you really need it. Karl came because you were seriously depressed and needed your spirits boosted, and I came to give you some answers you need."

"But I was in that pit for hours and the net for a whole day!"

"But you got out of those without assistance. Be honest, wasn't it more satisfying to get out of those on your own?"

Walt sighed. "Looking back, yes, it felt absolutely great to escape."

"So ultimately Karl's actions, or inaction, did the most to increase your self-confidence. Isn't that an admirable trait for a big brother?"

"Well, at the time, I sure wouldn't have minded some help. But I guess you're right."

"I'm always right," Alex replied with a touch of haughtiness in her voice. "Think of it as the Island testing you."

"Hmm. Like when I first saw Danielle, that was a test?"

"In a way. Too bad you didn't use your brain then when you blurted out her name to her." Alex rapped Walt on the head. "When was the last time you had a haircut? But it's not bad; you could use a bit of a rugged look to complement your cuteness."

Walt spluttered. Haircuts were not high on his list of priorities. "My hair? Two or three months, I guess, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"You never know. But you have to realize you made Danielle suspicious of you by saying too much."

"Wonderful. So because of that, I had to spend all day in handcuffs and this silly grass skirt. I can't stand being like this."

Alex chuckled. "You're going to have to change your tune, because that's all you're wearing for the foreseeable future. Maybe several weeks. But hey, you look so adorable in that outfit."

Walt grimaced. "Several weeks? This was supposed to be for an emergency. Why can't I get something decent to wear now? There must be extra clothes in Danielle's bunker; I can ask her for some."

"That's a bad idea. She's highly paranoid, and will think you're trying to hide something on you like a gun or knife. You have to admit, in that outfit there's no way you could carry a concealed weapon."

"Well, yeah but, geez."

"Also, you're not good at lying. Your heart races when you do, and as long as you're bare-chested one can see it here."

Alex placed her hand over Walt's heart, which immediately began to race. She withdrew her hand, and chuckled again.

"Say, have you been working out? You've got nice pecs and abs for your age."

Walt choked at the compliment. "Huh? In Desmond's hatch I did for a while, but … so that's how Danielle knew was I lying?"

"In part, your eyes can give yourself away, too. Try to exercise when you get the chance; you need to be strong for what's ahead."

"That's kind of hard when I'm handcuffed to this tree. And at night, she used four handcuffs to tie me to a bed. She didn't have to do that!"

"Try to look at it from her perspective. She's been alone for years, and then this strange boy shows up out of nowhere and knows her name. The only people who know her name are those who kidnapped her daughter, so she connects you with them, and considers you a grave threat to her if you get away and reveal her location. Now be honest, what would you do in her place? Are you going to take any chances on the threat getting away, say by moving around enough to get a key?"

Walt looked at Alex for several seconds, and had to admit she made sense. "Yeah, I guess you're right. If one cuff out of four fails I'm still going nowhere. And that thing about concealed weapons makes sense. But some real shorts, or that African thing I had made from real material, would be a lot better."

"Danielle probably only has girl clothes. Would you rather wear those?"

Exasperated, Walt conceded. "Fine, I get the picture. I deal with this."

Walt gave Alex a silly grin, to indicate that she had cheered him up. He had grown comfortable with her despite being immobilized and secured to the tree behind him.

"I just realized, this means I won't have to do any laundry. What a waste of time and resources that is. What was I thinking?"

Alex chuckled. "That's the right attitude. You may just need to replace some blades of grass from time to time. Say, is that a bruise?"

"Yeah, Danielle poked me there a couple times with her rifle when I didn't answer fast enough, and when she didn't like my answer."

"You really have to be careful what you say to her. Let me rub that."

"It's not like I can stop you."

"Are you being smart with your big sister? You have to pay for that."

Alex tickled Walt under the chin, and then his stomach again, for about thirty seconds. This time Walt didn't try to repress his squeals of laughter. He was doomed, but it was overall a pleasant sensation and he didn't mind, as this was far better than being alone. Soon he was gasping for breath, and then Alex rubbed his chest where he had been poked.

"Feel better?"

"Yes, thank you."

Walt was conscious enough not to say anything that might induce more tickling. When he was fully recovered, he felt confident to ask,

"So what was the deal with the black smoke? That was … really embarrassing."

"Those were the nanobots in a different form. That cloud judges people, and takes action as it sees fit. In your case, you needed your back fixed, and you badly needed rest, so it tied you down for a while. Also, you were losing your sense of purpose, and I hope it smacked some sense into you."

"Don't worry, it did. I don't want that to ever happen again."

The sun was very near the horizon.

"So what I am supposed to do?" asked Walt.

Alex smiled again. "The most important thing for you to do now is live. Danielle is still paranoid and far from sane, so you must do everything she tells you. You can offer to help her, collect food and water and such. But don't suggest taking the handcuffs off; you must wait for her to decide when she can trust you about that. She doesn't want to hurt or kill you, but in her state she probably will if she catches you running away. You must wait for your opportunity, and then get far away from here. But leave everything just the way you found it when you came. If we're lucky Danielle will attribute your stay as a crazy dream."

"And after I get away, then what?"

"I can't tell you everything. I think it has something to do with your airplane. You're going to have to figure out what to do."

"Well, if I can get a boat back to civilization maybe I can do something. But if you can't help me, it looks like I'm going to be stuck to this tree all night."

"Yes, but this is allowed by the rules." Alex stepped up, took Walt's shoulders, and then gave him a good shoulder and neck massage. She then worked on his arms and legs, boosting circulation, and scratched his chest, alleviating an itch, and then his head. Unfortunately she couldn't get to Walt's back due to the contact with the tree. In any case, Walt hadn't realized how sore he was, and now was feeling the best he had in a long time.

"Thanks, big sister. I think I can get through the night now."

"Big sisters can do nice things. I have to go now. But there is one more thing."

"What's that? Hey, there's something crawling up my leg."

"Yes, it's a rare spider, native to this island."

Alex didn't seem concerned, but Walt was. He felt the spider crawl up his thigh and into his grass skirt.

"Uh, is it poisonous?"

"Actually, its bite causes temporary paralysis, but no permanent bad effects. It will knock an adult out for eight hours. You, probably ten hours."

The brown and red spider crawled over Walt's waistband and onto his stomach. The arachnid's tiny light feet tickled and Walt's belly quivered. Walt got nervous. "Can you please knock the spider off me? You know my tummy is ticklish, and I'm afraid he's going to bite."

Alex shook her head. "That's against the rules. But a bite isn't such a bad thing. It will slow down your metabolism a lot, which is good because you're not getting anything to eat for a while. You won't be so bad off when you wake up tomorrow. Oh, and your heart is racing again, better brace yourself."

Walt was dubious, but Alex had been on target all afternoon. The spider ambled around Walt's stomach, which trembled more and more. Walt's pounding heart didn't help matters, and soon the spider struck.

"Yeow!"

The spider crawled down Walt's body and into the forest. Alex reassured Walt.

"Don't worry, you'll become paralyzed, fall asleep, wake up about ten hours later, paralyzed, and slowly you'll regain your senses. Also, I can assure you Jacob will watch over you tonight. Turns out your friends are wishing you well. But remember the bright side."

"How can there be a bright side?"

"You already pretty much can't move, so becoming paralyzed isn't such a big deal!"

Alex laughed. Walt was dumbstruck at first, and then couldn't help but find the laughter contagious. Laughter was what he needed, and it was amplified by his thinking that being tied in a grass skirt to a tree was funny, if not downright hilarious. In much better spirits than in ages, Walt was still smiling broadly as he felt his limbs stiffen and his pulse and respiration slow to a crawl. The last thing he saw, or thought he saw, before his eyelids closed was Alex dissolving into a mass of tiny particles scattering in every direction as she walked away.


	19. Fair Deal

Danielle and Walt come to an agreement about living arrangements.

* * *

It was shortly before dawn when Walt regained consciousness. He couldn't move any voluntary muscle, and could only feel his extremely low pulse and breathing rates. Under normal circumstances he would have been terrified, but with Alex's visit and explanations fresh in his mind he remained calm. As the minutes passed his heartbeat and breathing grew quicker, and in fifteen minutes the first deliberate action he could make was to open his eyes. He could just make out his feet in the dim early morning light, and couldn't so much as raise his head to look at anything else.

It would be another quarter hour before he could wiggle his fingers, and a few more minutes his toes. His vital signs returned to normal, and he shook his head from side to side carefully, before raising it to look ahead. His arms and legs were still immobilized, but he could feel sensation returning to them.

Danielle felt better physically after the long rest. Arising at sunrise, she was initially alarmed to find Walt missing. However, the leg irons and handcuffs she had used on him were also gone, and after a minute she remembered where she had left him. She picked up her rifle and hurried outside, and was relieved to find her captive just as she had left him. _Didn't mean to leave him there all night, but the demon child from the Others probably deserved it._ Danielle didn't quite remember everything from the day before, and wound up asking,

"So do you have anything to say now?"

Walt measured his response carefully. He knew he had to tell as much of the truth as possible, or he might be left cuffed to the tree longer.

"Yes Ms. Rousseau, I have been with the Others, and realize that they are very bad people. I don't want any harm to come to you; I want to help you. I can be useful, collecting fruit and carrying water back to your home, or whatever you want me to do."

Danielle looked Walt in the eye. Walt appeared to be telling the truth, and his heart was beating steady and true. Still, she couldn't bring herself to trust him.

"Why should I trust you? If I release you, you could run straight back to the Others and tell them everything about me."

Walt remembered Alex's words about obeying Danielle.

"I understand it may take a long time for you to trust me. You need to release me from this tree in order for me to help, but I'll stay in these handcuffs for as long as you want and not complain."

From Danielle's perspective that was a fair deal.

"Very well, we shall see if you really will do all I tell you."

Setting her rifle down, Danielle first untwisted the chain of the leg irons from around the stubs of the roots. Then she unlocked one link of the cuffs from behind the tree, and brought both sets of handcuffs around to the front, and closed the open link of one set around the free link of the other. Walt didn't put up an iota of resistance, thereby passing a test. Danielle then picked up her weapon again.

Walt tired to take a step forward, but with his limbs stiff from his ordeal, fell to his hands and knees. His hands were far enough apart for him to break his fall without getting hurt.

"Sorry, my legs are a bit wobbly, but I'll be all right."

Walt took a couple deep breaths, and with Danielle watching carefully, was able to stand up.

"There, I'll be all right now. I am pretty hungry and thirsty; can I have something to eat and drink?"

"Come."

Danielle led Walt back to her bunker, where they had some fruit and juice. When they were finished, she announced,

"We must collect more fruit today, and water. I will show you where."

She gave Walt a backpack, and put another one on herself, after filling it with empty water bottles. The handcuffs prevented Walt from carrying the pack normally, so he slung it over one shoulder. They then went into the jungle, and after about twenty minutes Danielle stopped.

"This is a papaya grove. Climb this tree, and toss down the ripe papayas, the orange ones, you can reach."

Walt opened his mouth, intending to protest that it would be much easier to climb the papaya tree without the handcuffs, and then thought better of it. _Must not complain, like I promised. This is easier than a lot of the things that I did already._ Walt carefully climbed up, making sure his feet were in place before moving his hands, and vice versa. After a climb of four meters, he was within reach of several juicy papayas, and again carefully moving his hands, picked them one at a time off the branch, and dropped them down to Danielle, who caught them and placed them in Walt's pack. When the pack was full, Danielle proclaimed,

"That is enough. We now get fresh water."

Walt climbed down carefully, though at one point his foot slipped and he was left hanging by both hands for a couple seconds before regaining his footing and making it down the rest of the way. They then walked for ten minutes to a stream, where they filled the many water bottles. Mission accomplished, they returned to the bunker. After they set down the packs in the shade, Danielle took Walt to the edge of the forest and told him,

"I have business to attend to. Wait here."

Danielle unlocked one link of the handcuffs again. Originally she had intended to reconnect the cuffs behind a tree, but she felt a little sorry that Walt had to endure that position for so long, and since he had been behaving perfectly today. Consequently she reconnected the two sets of handcuffs around a branch over Walt's head before walking off.

_Business? She probably has to go to the bathroom. Can I escape from this?_

Walt assessed his situation. There was another branch leading from the one he was cuffed to, between him and the end of his branch. If that smaller branch could be torn off, Walt could walk to the far end and slide off, with only a few short, thin branches at the end. He would then be free, except that he would still be in handcuffs and leg irons, and Danielle had the keys to those. _Or was the leg iron key in the bunker?_

For the moment, Walt had no good way of cutting off the intervening branch, and even if he did it would make too much noise. He filed this escape plan in his memory, in case there was a situation where Danielle would be away for a long time and he somehow got hold of the keys. Another thought struck him.

_Alex did say I should exercise when I could. There is one I can do._

Walt reached up and grasped the branch with both hands, and did some pull-ups. He had to bring his head to the side of the branch due to the cuffs, but it felt good putting his muscles to work after having been tied up for so long. He also brought his feet up to the branch several times, working whatever muscles he could. He stopped only after he was panting for breath and his body glistened with sweat.

Danielle returned after an hour, having checked the area for more intruders. She then asked Walt,

"Tell me again what you know about Alex?"

Walt wasn't thrilled about being left cuffed to the branch over his head, but like before didn't dare complain.

"I haven't seen her in a long time, but I think she's living in that village north of here, that's surrounded by some kind of electronic security fence. This guy Ben Linus acts like she's his daughter."

Danielle bristled. "Alex's father was named Robert. And if I catch Ben Linus, he will pay dearly for what he has done."

_He's going to fall into your trap and get tortured by Sayid, maybe, _thought Walt. _But I can't tell her the future; she'll freak out again. It is easier to agree with her._

"Yes, Ben did a lot of bad things to me too. I'm sorry about Robert – did he and everyone else from your group get sick and die?"

"That is correct. A sickness came over us. Ben and those Others could have helped us, but … you appear to know the story."

Walt furrowed his brow as his anger at Ben spiked. Then he composed himself and looked sad. "Enough of it. I would like to get back at Ben, and get Alex out of there,

but I don't know what we can do about it. We need more help."

Danielle looked at prisoner, her emotions all mixed up. She decided to stick to her plan of keeping him around until she could decide what to do about Ben Linus and Alex. Danielle released Walt, only to cuff his hands in front of him again. As the day wore down, she prepared one more dinner of boar meat, letting Walt help. Afterward, when it was time for bed, she had Walt repeat the procedure from two nights before, with one change. Instead of asking Walt to raise his arms over his head after he had cuffed his feet to the foot rail and she had unlocked the connected links of the handcuffs on his wrists, she told him to handcuff his hands himself to the head rail of the bed frame. It was another test, which Walt passed with some effort, straining to get the free links around the rail, and then closing them. Again, at no time were the links around his wrists ever open.

Once Danielle was satisfied Walt was secured, she unlocked the leg irons and set them down to make Walt slightly more comfortable. She then went to her own room. Walt sighed, condemned to spend the night fairly stretched out thanks to the four sets of handcuffs, but it was a lot better than being tied to that tree like the night before. Walt wriggled some, and wished his arms were more to his sides to alleviate the strain. Still, after a big yawn he managed to fall asleep.

Danielle, however, had a dream of her own. In it, she and Walt were trying to climb over the security fence by making a structure of tree branches, though now Walt was wearing baggy blue shorts and a very large horizontally striped shirt. Then Alex, in her plain brown dress, appeared on the other side. She was trying to help, building a similar structure from the other side, when out of nowhere gunfire erupted. Danielle was shocked to see Walt shot through the heart, blood soaking his shirt. Then a moment later, she was horrified to see Alex shot in the head. Devastated, Danielle tried to cry out, but the next bullet hit her, and … she woke up screaming.

"NOOO! Alex, I won't let that happen to you!"

Walt woke up scared, not understanding what Danielle had said. He forgot where he was for a moment, but the handcuffs reminded him when he tried to get up. Settling down when there were no more outbursts, he reasoned, _I'm in big trouble if something happens to Danielle now. But what was it Alex said? She, or Jacob, or whatever, will help me if I need and deserve it? That would certainly qualify._ His mind more at ease, Walt went back to sleep. On the other hand, Danielle did not sleep well at all, and mostly cried through the night. She was convinced that an immediate rescue attempt would result in all their deaths.


	20. Drips and Traps

Danielle and Walt settle into a routine, while Walt works on improving his position and plans to escape.

* * *

In the morning, Danielle simply announced to Walt, "We must stay away from that village for now. It means death for all of us."

Walt then pieced together that Danielle must have had a vision or nightmare, and based on how accurate his visions had been, did not question her.

"So what do we do now?"

"We continue to live here, until there is another sign."

Walt nodded his head, as this seemed to fit in with what Alex had told him. _I have to wait for a sign that will let me escape from Danielle._

Danielle and Walt got into a routine, spending much of each day gathering food and water, and straightening up the bunker. Whenever Walt was outside, Danielle kept him in the leg irons and handcuffs, sometimes in front of him and sometimes behind his back. When she had to leave him alone, she secured him to a solid object, usually a tree. In her mind she was protecting him from harm by doing this. Based on her dream, she could prevent disaster by never letting him wear regular clothes, or be completely free of chains.

Paradoxically, Walt felt safest when he was chained to his bed, as those where the times Danielle was not holding a weapon that could be pointed at him. She never gave an indication that she would fire at Walt during the day, but Walt could never be absolutely sure given her state of mind. After a couple days Walt found himself heaving a sigh of relief after he locked himself in place with his hands over his head, and then was annoyed at himself for this reaction. Now not so exhausted as in previous days, the strain in his arms made it more difficult to sleep, and he would have to do something about that.

The next night he asked if he could handcuff his hands to the rails at the side of the bed frame instead of over his head, as that eliminated just about all of the strain on his arms despite the very limited movement. He demonstrated, and once Danielle was sure he was just as secured, assented. Once alone in the dark, Walt smiled at his little victory. Then he thought, _This is a victory? Tied down in total darkness so I can barely move by a crazy woman who keeps me in chains all day like a slave? I need to raise my standards for victory._

Walt was despondent, until he thought it through some more. _Walt, you have to be patient. This is a victory; it's the first time you got Danielle to let you do something you asked for. On my back like I'm being crucified is definitely more comfortable than almost being on a rack. My grass skirt is holding up very well. Alex was right; I don't need anything more, and so what if I can't dress myself normally? And I'm better off than any slave; Danielle lets me get food and eat with her, and she's not going to whip me. She's lonely and had her baby stolen from her. I should feel sorry for her and try to make her feel better._ In better spirits, Walt took a deep breath, puffing out his chest in a gesture that he was tough enough to handle this, and quickly fell asleep.

The days passed with the two of them living in this curious arrangement. A change overtook Danielle, with long-dormant maternal instincts reawakening, and directed at Walt. She taught him many of the tricks she had learned to survive in this place: which plants were edible, and which could produce water. The leaves of another plant could be used to keep their teeth clean.

"I remember that! That's the plant Sun used," Walt couldn't help comment.

Danielle's face turned into a frown.

"Who is Sun?"

_I blew it again. _"Oh, she's a person I knew a long time ago who was into gardening, and she mentioned that once."

Danielle accepted the explanation, but her level of suspicion rose a bit. She would be absolutely sure Walt never got his hands on a weapon. In fact, one day after she slew a boar with a crossbow, they carried it back home with Walt in front, holding onto two of the beast's legs with Walt's hands bound behind his back. Relieved that Danielle hadn't been interrogating further, Walt didn't complain.

By the time two weeks had passed, their routine had become well-ingrained. Walt no longer gave any thought to running around in his grass skirt the whole day, so used to it he was by now. He became very adept at moving and keeping his balance while in the leg irons and handcuffs, learning to take short, quick steps. When Danielle wanted his hands cuffed behind his back and/or around a tree, Walt would shackle himself without question. On the increasingly rare occasions when Walt fell, it became a source of amusement to watch him struggle to regain his feet, but he became skilled at that as well. Yet throughout this all Walt became more and more sympathetic with Danielle.

The next night there was a big storm. The bunker was sound enough so that Walt and Danielle only woke up briefly during it, but a couple hours before dawn Walt was waken by something small hitting him. Groggy, he tried to go back to sleep, but he was hit again, and again, on the middle of his chest by something wet. Reluctantly opening his eyes, he immediately remembered he was in pitch darkness.

Drip.

Walt determined that there was a small leak in the ceiling, and figured it would go away soon. To his consternation, it did not. He tried scooting around to avoid the dripping, but could only move a few millimeters in any direction thanks to the four sets of handcuffs on his hands and ankles. The effort wasn't worth it, and he lay still to wait it out. _This is like Chinese water torture, except it's not on my forehead. But I can turn my head, and can't move my body. Should have asked for a sheet to cover me._

Drip. Drip.

Walt endured several minutes of the dripping, and then started to get annoyed. "Jacob, are you trying to be funny? Well, you're not." Walt stuck out his tongue at his imagined tormentor in the darkness. _Should I call out to Danielle for help? But I'll look like such a wimp, unable to stand a little water. I can stand this. _

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Walt gritted his teeth, bracing for the onslaught. It felt like a hole was being drilled through the center of his chest. _I can't believe this. Why is this so irritating? Hey, I got poured on all day when I was trapped in that net. What's so bad about this? Then it was raining on me all over, and now it's always the same spot. I can't let this get to me._

As the dripping continued, Walt felt a different sensation. Enough water had collected that a little stream rolled up his body and collected in a small puddle at his throat, and another stream rolled down his stomach, collecting in his navel. Each drip was resulting in a tiny splash, and that made a big difference. During the next hour, Walt could feel the pools fill up and overflow, and water trickled down his sides and across his armpits. It even tickled some, causing Walt to laugh. Finally Danielle entered with a lantern.

"What is happening here?"

Walt calmly replied, "There's a leak in the ceiling. The water is kind of tickling me now."

"Why didn't you say something?"

"I didn't want to disturb your sleep."

"Oh, thank you."

Danielle released Walt with the usual procedure, and together they patched up the ceiling.

Another week passed with routine days. By the end of the third week Walt was so accustomed to constantly being in handcuffs that it was a shock when Danielle announced,

"You will help me reset the trap. You will need your hands free for that."

Danielle took Walt to the rope trap where she had found him hanging upside-down and unconscious. Walt grimaced, and then help load up a large number of boulders into a net that was connected to the rope. When the trigger was tripped, the boulders would fall off a high branch, and raise the victim off the ground, just as Walt had been.

It was a hard day's work, so it wasn't until the next day when Danielle took Walt to another trap, the net where he had spent a day. Alarmed, she exclaimed, "Someone set this off!"

"This is yours? That was me," Walt interposed before Danielle thought there was another intruder. "I was stuck in that a whole day, but a big rainstorm made it slippery enough for me to force my way through the top."

"Hmm. Not many people could do that, I should think. I shall adjust it."

Danielle tried to tighten the top of the net some, and then they loaded up more boulders like for the rope trap. It was another taxing day, but Walt didn't mind putting his muscles to use. Furthermore, it felt great to have his hands free.

The next day, the twenty-third since Walt's capture, after collecting some fruit Danielle told him, "There is one more trap I need to test. You need yours hands free again to make it a proper test. This way."

Danielle took Walt back toward her bunker, but veered off on another direction, and then circled around back toward it. Although he still was in the leg irons, Walt was excited to have his hands free of the handcuffs. _At this rate I'm going to have a chance to escape soon. _He wasn't paying too much attention when Danielle told him where to stand, and then moved off around toward her bunker, and finally coming back up a path toward him.

"Now come here."

Walt walked toward Danielle across a sandy expanse, not expecting anything yet as he didn't see anything out of the ordinary, when he felt the ground give way under his feet.

SPLUUSSH!

He had walked off the end of a board that was thinly covered by sand, and had tilted forward after he crossed a log lying perpendicular to the board. With the combination acting like a lever and fulcrum, Walt pitched forward, and in his effort to remain upright jumped forward and sank up to his knees.

"Quicksand?"

"Yes. Now try to get out."

Walt remembered that he shouldn't struggle wildly, but then reasoned, _If she thinks this doesn't work I'll keep having to do this until it does._ Consequently Walt made a big show of trying to raise one leg, while in fact he was just driving the other leg in deeper. Reversing the process enabled him to get both legs in to the middle of his thighs. He thought of turning around to try to reach the board, but he was too far away from it, and the corkscrew effort caused him to sink to his crotch. Turning back around, he acted like he was trying to claw his way forward, but was still deliberately working his way into the quicksand with unseen leg movements. It was harder as the sand was thicker down there, and right after his grass skirt completely slid under the surface Walt had to give up.

"Gee Danielle, this is a great trap. I'm completely stuck. It'll sure stop an Other trying to sneak up on you from this way."

Danielle was pleased that this trap work. She cracked a rare smile at the helpless boy sunk up to his waist, and then started to take out a rope to throw Walt when there was a noise nearby.

"That is a boar. I must kill it; it will feed us for days. Do not move, I will come back for you."

The boar charged at Danielle, and she had to move quickly to get out of the way, leaving Walt's field of view. She had to regroup to get out her rifle, and then the chase went far away from Walt.

_Hey, are you leaving me here alone?_ Walt was annoyed at first, and then realized, _She left me alone and my hands are free! Now's my chance._

Unfortunately for Walt he had worked himself in too deeply to get out unassisted. Trying to move one leg forward sent the other leg backward, resulting in no useful motion. He scooped the quicksand away from his body, but it immediately filled back in, unlike the real sand in the Sahara. Also, this sand was never going to harden like the mud he had fallen into under the net.

_I feel like an idiot. I really am stuck, and I can't do a thing about it. Have to wait for Danielle to return. Or … maybe the wind will blow a vine within reach._

Walt stood anxiously in the quicksand for an hour, and then another, with nothing happening other than the powerful sun bearing down on his shoulders. _Danielle probably forgot about me again, like when I was handcuffed to that tree overnight._ But then there was a gust of wind, followed by whispering. Walt turned his head, but couldn't tell in which direction the whispering came from, or what was being spoken. _It must be Alex, or Jacob, or one of those images going to help me._ Walt's heart pounded as he anticipated his possibly imminent rescue.


	21. Playing in Quicksand with New Friends

Walt finds friends, possibly imaginary, who alternate helping, providing answers, and giving him a hard time.

* * *

Walt squinted as two figures emerged from the sunlight as if out of thin air. They were smaller than Karl and Alex, more like children his own age. They were talking, with the girl speaking first.

"There he is! Isn't he adorable?"

The boy scoffed. "Well, I guess he looks better than your last several boyfriends."

The girl hit the boy in the arm. "Shut up."

They reached the far edge of the quicksand. The girl continued, "Hello, Walt."

Walt wasn't sure who these two blond kids were supposed to be. "Hello. Who are you?"

"I'm Emma, and this is my dopey little brother Zack. We were on the same plane."

It was Zack's turn to hit Emma in the arm, but not too hard. "Hey Walt, how're you doing?"

_I'm stuck in quicksand, isn't it obvious?_ Walt felt sarcastic. "I'm just fine, beautiful day isn't it? There were hardly any children on that plane; I might have passed you in the aisle."

"Turns out the same people who kidnapped you kidnapped us earlier, but they didn't let us see each other," contributed Emma. She winked at Walt. "Gosh, you're cute." Zack coughed.

Walt had heard enough of this from Alex, and got impatient.

"Yeah, I'm cute. Now, aren't you going to help me out of here? In case you didn't notice, I'm really stuck."

Emma and Zack giggled, and didn't offer an explanation. Then the probable truth dawned on Walt.

"Let me guess, it's against the rules, right?"

"Way to go Walt, you're not as dumb as you look," said Zack.

"But I'm in danger here. You're supposed to help me."

"You're not in danger, Walt," reassured Emma. "Didn't you learn in school, you only sink until the mass of the quicksand you displace equals the mass of your body? It's called buoyancy. With no outside forces, it will be very hard for you to sink deeper if you tried."

"Yeah," added Zack. "Good thing you're not wearing or carrying anything, that would have made you sink deeper."

Walt spluttered a double negative that was actually correct. "I'm not wearing nothing! I've got a grass skirt on under here, and leg irons on my ankles."

"Whatever you say Walt, we believe you," replied Emma.

Walt was having a hard time with this conversation. "I don't care what you believe because I know it's the truth Now who are you really? Or what are you?"

"Think Walt," answered Zach. "Alex gave you enough clues."

Walt sighed, and thought for a minute. Then he came up with,

"You two are like Alex, and Karl, aren't you? You look like guys I barely saw, and say and act like I think kids your age would, subject to what Jacob will let me know?"

"See Zach, he's not dumb." Emma smiled cheerfully. "And Walt, what do you think kids our age would act around someone in your situation?"

"You'd help me out of here!" insisted Walt. "But … if I'm not in danger …" Walt grimaced. "You're going to tease me, aren't you?" Walt extended his arms up and to the sides. " Go on, tease the funny stuck guy."

Emma and Zach burst into laughter. Walt was indignant at first, but the laughter became contagious. _I got into this deep myself; I guess it is kind of funny._ In a couple minutes they all stopped laughing.

"Congratulations, Walt," smirked Zach. "Jacob is pleased with you now, and may answer some questions."

Walt was in a better mood. "So if you can't help me out, how long until Danielle comes back?"

"Sorry, can't answer that," answered Zack.

Walt let out a deep breath. "Just like Alex when I asked her how long I would be tied to that tree. Look, I've been stuck here for hours and I'm hungry. Is there something the rules do allow?"

Emma stepped to the side of the path she was on, and pulled a banana off a bunch. To Walt's surprise, she tossed it to him, and he caught it.

"You can do this now?" asked Walt, who promptly devoured the banana, and flung the peel to the side. "Thanks."

"Jacob is being nicer to you now that you're proving yourself," explained Emma. "He really was mad at you for pushing the frozen donkey wheel too far and blowing up the Swan Hatch."

"Cheez, I did the best I could. Now can I have another banana?"

"You have to earn the next one." Emma grinned.

"What? What do I have to do? I can't do very much in here."

"You can flex those beautiful muscles of yours."

Walt thought it over. He was still hungry, as one banana wasn't a whole lot, and there were just nanobot creations, and not even real people. He went for it, expanding his chest and flexing his biceps.

Emma giggled. "Zack wishes he had muscles like that."

"Shut up!" Zack shoved Emma. "Walt, now stick your thumbs in your ears, and wiggle your fingers."

"What? This is silly."

"You want to go hungry?" demanded Zack. I'm sure Danielle will be back by tomorrow. Now stick out your tongue as well."

"Fine!" It was not as if Walt had much dignity left. He complied with the requests, and the blond siblings both hit the ground rolling in laughter. Now Walt added sarcastically, "Is there anything else I can do?"

Emma got up. "I'd like to see you tense those gorgeous abs of yours. And smile."

By now Walt wanted to show up Zack, even if the latter wasn't real. Walt tensed his abdominal muscles all he could, and forced a smile.

"You're so handsome," cooed Emma.

Zack snorted. "Now beat your chest and roar like Tarzan."

Walt went along, thumping his chest. "Roooooaaarrrrrrr!"

Zach wasn't satisfied. "You can do better than that. What happened to all those muscles?"

Getting more irritated, Walt puffed out his chest and beat it as hard as he could. "RRROOOOOOOOAAAAAARRRRRRR!!" Venting some frustration felt good.

Emma and Zack hit the deck again. After a minute Emma took pity on Walt and tossed him a second banana. Walt lost no time in peeling and eating it, but this time threw the peel at Zack. It looked like it went right through the boy.

"Now Walter, that wasn't very nice." Zack's tone was mock-serious. You have to pay for that."

"What'cha gonna do, tickle me like Alex?"

Without answering, Zack strode toward Walt. Walt was surprised to see Zack not sink at all, but then remembered this wasn't a real person. However, Zack went around Walt's back and climbed onto his shoulders. Suddenly there was the weight of a real boy there, and Walt resumed sinking.

"Hey, get off there!"

Walt twisted and turned, but any attempts to throw Zack off resulted in Walt's arms passing through Zack's apparent body. Walt's gorgeous abs slipped below the surface of the quicksand.

"That's enough, Zack, get off him now!" demanded Emma. "Don't push him past his chest so he can breathe easily."

Zach got off just before the sand reached the bottom of Walt's chest. Zack whispered to Walt, "She just wants to look at your pecs, man."

Walt was going to agree before anything worse happened. "Yeah, I know."

After Zach walked back across the quicksand, Emma tossed Walt another banana. "I'm sorry that happened. My brother can be a jerk sometimes." She gave Zack a good shove, knocking him down. Walt ate the third banana, and tossed the peel in the direction opposite Zack.

"Look, do you two fight all the time?"

"Didn't you decide we're not real people?" Emma was smiling again. "We're fighting because you think we would. It's your perception of sibling rivalry."

"So what about the real Emma and Zack?"

"They're with the rest of the people who were on the island."

Walt remembered something Alex had said about his friends wishing him well.

"Where are my friends now? Those who were on the plane, and the island?"

Emma paused, as if waiting for permission to talk. "We can tell you this. They're in a state of limbo. A part of the black smoke has them. They are coming here – in location and in time. But it's not a fast process; it will probably take weeks."

It struck Walt that chest-deep in quicksand was a ridiculous position from which to carry on a conversation. Then again, it wasn't so much more ridiculous than waist-deep. "Can you please pull me out to at least the way I was before you got here? Or don't the rules allow that?"

Emma shook her head sweetly. "You don't need that help. Jacob will only help you when you really need it."

Walt sighed. His arms were getting tired, and he rested them gingerly on the top of the surface. "So can you at least stay until Danielle gets back?"

Emma and Zack exchanged glances. Zack finally spoke. "We can do that. It's not physical help, and it's not like we have anything better to do."

"Um, thanks."

The children chatted for an hour, and then another. They talked about life at home, though Walt couldn't be sure anything the brother and sister said pertained to the real ones. In a move toward reconciliation, Zack went and got a couple of mangoes for Walt as a slight change of pace. Walt put up with being stuck so deep as being able to talk with someone, real or not, was a lot better than being stuck alone. Then after Walt had been trapped in the quicksand for four hours, Zack announced,

"She's coming. We gotta split."

"Good-bye Walt, see you later." Emma waved good-bye, and the siblings scrambled off to the side, but not before picking up the banana peels lest Danielle should find them.

Danielle returned to her trap, finding Walt sunk deeper than when she left him.

"Sorry it took so long, but I did kill the boar in the end. You continued to try to get out?"

"Uh, it was more like being too hard to keep still." _Can't tell her Zack pushed me in deeper._

Danielle wasn't sure about Walt's explanation, but had her own solution.

"Here, put these on."

She tossed Walt a pair of handcuffs. Walt quickly snapped them on his wrists, fighting the regret that his hands weren't going to be free for who knows how long. Next, Danielle tied a rope around a nearby tree, and threw the other end to Walt. "Pull yourself out."

Walt grasped the rope with both hands, and gave a good pull. He moved a few centimeters to the tree, and his body rose a few centimeters. He regrouped, and the next pull produced almost the same results. After a third, he needed to take a break.

"This is hard!"

Danielle decided it would be best for Walt to extricate himself with no more assistance.

"Life is hard, Walt. You must learn to deal with it. Meet me at the bunker."

Walt remembered that this trap was pretty close to Danielle's bunker. She left Walt to struggle on his own. Walt persevered, but soon had to take another break. _This would have been a lot easier if Zack hadn't pushed me down._ Walt was a meter from his goal when his strength gave out. "I can't do this!"

Standing still, he was startled to see Emma emerge from the forest. She walked on the quicksand to Walt, and ran her hands over his upper arms.

"Walt, I just had to feel your muscles."

Walt gasped, and made another effort, pulling himself a good couple decimeters to the tree.

Emma took another step, and asked, "You said something about tickling, are you ticklish?" She reached under Walt's arms and tickled his armpits.

"AH HA NO HA HA!"

Walt lurched, and pulled himself out the rest of the way. He was drained of energy, and gasping for breath. "Th-thanks. I'm free – sort of."

Emma had to remind Walt, "You're still in handcuffs and leg irons. You can't escape Danielle like that. You will get a chance, though, and you must take it. I have to go now."

Emma glided across to where Zack was watching from the edge of the forest, and then they both disappeared, as if into thin air. Walt crawled for a distance, then struggled to his feet. Reluctantly he went back to the bunker. "I think I need to wash up before dinner." After a few minutes rest, Walt and Danielle went to the stream, which Walt sat in for fifteen minutes while Danielle filled water bottles. Feeling more refreshed, Walt got out, and rearranged and replenished his grass skirt, which had been damaged while getting out of the quicksand. While there were some good-sized blades of grass in the area, they weren't as long or as sturdy as those from the sea of green, but they would serve the purpose well enough. Danielle and Walt went back home and prepared the boar for a good meal, and then fell asleep rapidly.


	22. Along Came a Spider

Events transpire to provide another opportunity for Walt to escape, though Danielle has something to say about that.

The next few days were uneventful, with Danielle and Walt back in the routine they had established over the past couple weeks. No more traps needed to be reset, and no one else came to set them off, so Walt was virtually always in the handcuffs. Despite this, Walt was becoming more attached to Danielle. He sympathized with her more and more, and acknowledged her as a victim, as happens to a kidnap victim with the Stockholm Syndrome. As the days wore on, he had less and less desire to leave.

One day Walt received a moderate cut on his back by a thorn on a branch that snapped back on him. Back at the bunker, Danielle instructed Walt to handcuff himself to his bed frame first down before treating him, with the reasoning that he had to hold still and the medicine, derived from a plant would sting. This seemed perfectly reasonable to Walt, as did spending the night in that position. In the following days Danielle showed Walt the medicinal properties of other native plants. On another day Walt wrenched his back after jumping a little too far out of a tree and twisting when hitting the ground. That night he got a soothing back rub, despite being locked in place with his hands straight out from his shoulders. While it felt great, Walt would never take advantage of Danielle by faking an injury. He just found that an occasional night face down was sort of a nice change of pace from lying face up every night.

Several days later, on August 6, six weeks or forty-two days from when Walt was captured, they went on another boar hunt, their meat supply having been depleted. On this occasion Danielle let Walt the maximum allowable freedom, his hands cuffed in front of him with the two sets linked to each other. The hunt was a quick success, with Danielle nailing a boar in the morning. After the slaughter, she caught Walt gazing at her crossbow for several seconds, and decided,

"Enough of that. We carry this back with your hands behind you, you lead."

Walt didn't mind at all; he looked at this as an opportunity to show off his strength and dexterity. Danielle used the one key she carried to unlock one set of handcuffs, and stored them in her pack. The other two keys, one for the ever-present leg irons and one for the other set, were stored on nails in the bunker. Walt obediently snapped the link on the remaining set on his free wrist behind his back, and skillfully bent down and grasped two of the boar's legs. Danielle got the other two, and they headed home.

They were around a hundred meters from the bunker when Walt noticed a brown and red spider go by. A second later, he heard Danielle gasp, and drop the boar. Walt dropped his end and rushed over.

"This spider bit me!" explained Danielle.

"Ooooh, I've seen that before."

"Tell me about it."

"I got bit by one of those. It's going to paralyze you in a few minutes. You'll be out for eight hours, but you'll be okay after that."

_Eight hours? He'll have plenty of time to escape. I can't let that happen._

Danielle felt the onset of the bite effects, and was suspecting Walt of causing this. "You must handcuff yourself to a tree."

They were in a small clearing. Walt looked for the closest tree, and then realized,

"I can't! My hands are cuffed behind my back."

Danielle decided it was too big a risk to unlock Walt for a moment to move and then re-tie him to a tree, afraid the toxin would set in any second. She did have another way to immobilize Walt. She knocked him over, and twisted and tied the leg irons snugly around his ankles. Then she took the handcuffs from her pack, closed one link around the chain of the handcuffs binding Walt's hands, and the other link around the chain of the leg irons, effectively hogtying Walt. She tightened those links as far as she could, forcing Walt's back to arch. Increasingly delusional, she staggered a few steps, and then threw the key as far as she could as her legs gave out. Walt craned his neck to see where the key landed, past two trees and hidden by grass two or three decimeters long. In another minute Danielle stopped moving after crawling out of the clearing and just onto a path back to the bunker, out cold and virtually comatose.

The event shook Walt out of his complacency. _I forgot; she really is crazy. Maybe I can get out of this and escape._ Walt assessed his situation. He was on his stomach, his back arched so much that his chest and knees were off the ground. He reached around with his fingers and could feel the handcuffs hogtying him, and where one of the keyholes was, the one locking the link around the leg irons. He could touch the leg irons, but not do anything about the chain now binding his ankles together. Meanwhile the other set of cuffs was digging painfully into his wrists. _Concentrate. I have to get to that key, unlock the one set, then get back to the bunker, unlock the other cuffs and leg irons, and I'm free. And I have eight hours._

Of course getting to the key was a problem. Walt first tried scooting forward. He leaned forward, resting on his chest, but then his weight forced him to rock back, resting on his thighs for an instant. Then he rocked back and forth a few times, eventually coming to rest on his stomach, having made no progress. Next, he twisted to the side to see if he could push off from his side, but ended up only pivoting on his stomach.

Increasingly frustrated, he rocked from one side, tipping over and lying on his left side. He still was unable to move his arms or legs in any way to help him, and this position was more uncomfortable. He decided to get back on this stomach, but that proved difficult without any leverage. After a few attempts, he summoned up enough momentum to get up, but couldn't stop, and rolled onto his right side and then onto his back, arched over his bound hands and feet. There was still no way to unbend his legs to get any kind of propelling force. Annoyed, Walt rocked some more, and finally righted himself on his stomach, which he had concluded was the least uncomfortable position he could manage.

It had been fifteen minutes and Walt was back where he started. _This isn't fair! The first time Danielle doesn't have me tied to something when she's unconscious and I can't move!_ Walt closed his eyes, and pictured how he might accomplish something useful. Some combination of rocking and pushing should work. To this end, he pivoted on his stomach while rocking forward, then pushed off his shoulder, and pivoted in the opposite direction. He was excited to find that he had moved a centimeter, but not pleased that he had gone backward. _What did I do? Must have pushed off the wrong shoulder. I think I have it figured out now._

Walt pivoted to the right and rocked forward again, his left shoulder ahead. Then he rolled onto that shoulder, pivoted to the left, rocking back to his knees. Now angling to the left, he pushed off his right knee and pivoted back to the right, rolling onto his right shoulder. Then it was a pivot to the left, and rocking back so he could push off his left knee. The sequence resembled that of a sailboat tacking into a strong wind. Most of Walt's movements were in diagonal directions, but there was a definite if small forward component.

The strain in his shoulders was bad, but for Walt it was bearable, thanks to his having his hands cuffed behind his back for so many hours the previous six weeks. Walt almost wished Danielle hadn't trusted him enough to have his hands cuffed in front of him as often as she had, but he decided he wasn't going to complain now. What was worse was the handcuffs digging into his wrists from the strain. He found he could alleviate that by grasping the chain of the leg irons with his hands, although that arched his back to the maximum. Now more excited, Walt found the energy to keep up this motion, getting closer to his goal centimeter by centimeter.

After forty-five minutes of this, however, Walt ran into a snag, literally. The waistband of his grass skirt caught on a partially exposed root of a tree a few meters to the side. Unable to reach his skirt, Walt tried backing up, but a small knob off that root caught more of the waistband. Walt stopped for a couple reasons. One was that he needed a break from the tiring effort. He also needed to reassess his situation. By craning his next down to the right, he could see that he was snagged, and couldn't get loose without the use of his hands. He certainly could rip free with a lunge to the left, but in that case he would have no way of putting the skirt back together and getting it on, and the prospect of being naked while hogtied was too unpalatable to bear.

_If a spider like that bit me too, I could sleep through the rest of this._ But on this occasion no spider was forthcoming. Walt dreaded the prospect of laying there for several hours waiting for Danielle to wake up. _Will she be mad at me, thinking I'm responsible for the spider bite?_ Then a more sobering thought. _What if she doesn't wake up?_ A better idea came to him.

"Jacob, or whoever, are you out there? Look, I really tried, but I need some help now. Could you please help me?"

Almost instantly a light breeze came and went, and Walt heard unintelligible whispering. _That's better, much faster service now._ Walt looked for some form to approach, but the only thing he could discern was the outline of a bird flying high in the sky.


	23. Hogtied Walt

Walt encounters more adversity in his escape bid.

* * *

With nothing else visible moving, Walt watched the bird soar high overhead. It appeared to circle a couple of times, and then come closer. As it approached, Walt guessed that it was a large black hawk. Suddenly he had bad memories of being strapped to a chair in the dreaded Room 23 and shown unpleasant images. On some occasions birds had smacked into the outside wall of the building. Then there was that cuckoo in Sydney that smashed into a window after he had a seen a picture of it. The hawk drew nearer, and Walt became nervous. On those previous occasions there had been barriers between him and the birds, but now there was nothing, and Walt was completely unable to defend himself. He swallowed, hoping that this was just a coincidence.

However, the bird continued flying, more and more appearing to be heading straight for Walt. As it swooped below the tops of the closest trees, Walt thought the creature croaked out "Hurley." Then the avian was close enough for Walt to see its talons extended, as if to gouge out his eyes. He watched disbelievingly as the hawk streaked straight for his head. At the last possible moment, Walt lurched to his left and rolled completely over to get back on his stomach. He could feel the breeze of the bird's wings as it sped by, and the wardrobe malfunction he dreaded came to pass, his grass skirt irreparably ripped with the blades mixing in with the grass of the clearing. Walt twisted around to prepare for another attack, but the bird just rose into the air, cleared the tops of the closest trees, and sailed out of sight.

Walt was simultaneously relieved that the bird was gone, and livid that it had just forced him to be in the nude while still hogtied.

"YOU STUPID BIRD! WHAT DID YOU DO THAT FOR?"

Walt's spirit was broken. So many things had happened to him, and he had fought through them all. Yet just when he thought he getting the help he needed, this happened, and now he was as bad off as ever. Without any energy, he lay still on his stomach, resigned to letting Danielle finding him in this position several hours later. If he didn't die from embarrassment, he would have to explain that he had tried to escape, but was foiled by a bird.

As Walt lay there, however, anger swelled up inside him. He did not want to go out before taking revenge on that bird, and formed a semi-coherent plan. _I am not going to let that bird defeat me. I am going to find that key, free myself, get out of here, make another grass skirt, make a bow and arrow, and kill that bird. And then get off this island and have a real life._

Revitalized with the new sense of purpose and somewhat rested, Walt resumed his rocking and twisting procedure, making slow progress toward where Danielle had thrown the handcuff key. It was more painful now as the grass skirt had provided some protection, but a surge in adrenalin allowed him to work through the pain. Unfortunately, Walt had lost track of the precise position he was aiming for when he lunged out of the way of the bird. It took a quarter hour to get lined up the way he had been, and an hour and half to work his way up to the two trees between which the key had been thrown. Forging ahead, it was another half hour to get through there and into a smaller clearing. The grass there was annoyingly tall, as Walt had thought when he saw the key thrown. He would still have to search for it.

Walt made his best guess, and wormed his way over, but the key was not there. He twisted awkwardly to search the immediate area, and in doing so his right hamstring cramped. It had been remarkable that nothing like this had happened yet, but now Walt was in agony. He couldn't reach the cramp, and in trying to compensate pulled his left hamstring awkwardly, and that cramped as well. Walt gnashed his teeth as he could only wait for the cramps to go away, unable to move under those conditions.

It took three quarters of an hour for the cramps to disappear completely. Walt didn't want to try moving before then, figuring that would only cause the cramps to linger. He resumed a methodical search, spiraling outward from his present location. During the search his demeanor changed. Without intending to, his anger dissipated, to be replaced by excitement. It was thrilling to have a chance to succeed by overcoming all sorts of adversity. He had a feeling like this before, when he was escaping from the net. _I'll bet that Jacob sent that bird at me on purpose so that I'd get the energy to do this._

After an hour of searching, Walt was rewarded when he espied a glint of silver in the tall grass. Four hours after the bird attack, victory was in sight. Still, there was work to be done. Walt scooted over to one side, calculating how far he had to be so that when he rolled onto his side, the key would be within reach. On his first attempt, he did not get far enough way, and the key was too close to his body to reach. He struggled back to his stomach, and scooted farther away, but this time it was too far. On his third attempt, he took the average of his two previous positions, and this time grasped the key. He strained to reach the handcuff lock with it, and as the key touched the keyhole at an angle, Walt dropped the key. One part of his brain said he should swear, but instead a part telling him to laugh was more powerful.

Walt regrouped, and more relaxed, on his next attempt succeed in getting the key in the keyhole, and turning it. It was extremely satisfying to hear the click as the lock disengaged. With a little more effort Walt opened the link enough to clear it from the chain of the leg irons. His legs immediately straightened out, and Walt welcomed the improved circulation. He could no longer reach the leg iron chain to untangle that, but was able to stand up after a couple false starts. He rolled his shoulders to alleviate some of the ache there, and took some deep breaths. Positively ecstatic, he shouted,

"YES! I DID IT!"

Walt never felt so good in his life, grinning over his good fortune. It was true he was still bound hand and foot in his birthday suit, a state he would never normally associate with good fortune, but now those were temporary conditions that could soon be rectified. He had two and a half hours before Danielle would wake up. Holding onto the key he had found, he had to hop back to Danielle's bunker, taking a path that avoided her and all her traps. He definitely did not want to meet anyone, real or imaginary, while doing this, but figured that since he didn't need help now that wasn't going to happen. He was right, and the trip took half an hour, as he fell a couple times, finding it hard to keep his balance while jumping with his feet bound together. Still, the experience was the most fun he had in a long time.

Once inside the bunker, he maneuvered to where the key to the handcuffs on his hands was hanging. Backing up to it, he took it off its hook and unlocked those cuffs fairly easily, and undid the link of the other pair, that had been hogtying him, from around those cuffs. He rubbed his aching shoulders for a minute before jumping over to where the key for the leg irons was, and quickly got those off as well. He then put all the restraints back where they usually hung when they weren't being used on him.

There were deep gouges on his wrists and ankles, so his next order of business was to squeeze some fluid into them from the plants Danielle had indicated, and rub the leaves over the cuts. It helped quite a bit, but would certainly take several days to heel fully.

He next looked for some clothes, but of course everything there was suited for Danielle. Then he remembered Alex saying he should leave everything the way it had been. He could make another grass skirt any time, or perhaps something out of the boarskin if he had time. But now he was more concerned about Danielle. Under other circumstances he may have felt like taking revenge, but now he mainly felt pity. Alex had also said it should also be ideal to set her up so she would think her experience with Walt was a dream.

To this end, Walt dragged the wooden sled on which Danielle had carried him from the rope trap six weeks before, over to where Danielle lay on a path. Danielle did not look good, lying absolutely motionless. She wasn't breathing, and Walt was scared she might be dead. He took her pulse, and was anxious for several seconds until there finally was a heartbeat. It was another several seconds before another. Alex's description had been right on target. Summoning his strength, Walt got Danielle onto the sled, and then dragged her back to the bunker. It was a lot of work, but a powerful sense of purpose was ample to get Walt through this task. The boar carcass would have to stay, but that was fine; Danielle would have food for a long time when she woke up. Walt then noticed he was hungry, having missed lunch that day, and filled up on the supply that was there.

It was time to leave. Walt felt bad about leaving Danielle despite the way she had treated him, but there was no way to complete his quest while around her in her mental state. He whispered, "I'll come back for you. I don't know how and when, but I'll find you and make sure you and Alex get together."

Something spooked Walt as he said this, as if he sensed Danielle was about to wake up, and all he wanted now was to put as much distance between them as possible. Panicking and fearing he might be tracked, he ran off in a different direction than where the boar was, heading instead around the quicksand trap and to the northeast. In fact, while Walt did not know it there was about an hour until Danielle would regain consciousness, and about an hour of daylight left. When he ran out of breath, Walt resorted to walking quickly through the woods, once again aware to watch out for traps. At one point upon reaching a small river, he waded upstream for a few hectometers to get rid of any possible trail. As the sun set, it dawned on him that he needed to prepare his own shelter.

Realizing it would be a bad idea to sleep on the ground in case a boar attacked while he was asleep, he looked for a tree with a good branch high enough off the ground. _But I'd roll off in my sleep. Hold it, mountain climbers have to strap themselves onto ledges. I just need a vine._ Luck was on Walt's side once more, as he found a long vine that he could climb four meters to a thick branch. Sitting on the branch, he wrapped the vine around the branch and his legs a few times. Then lying back, he continued coiling the vine around his upper body, not too tight but tight enough to keep from falling. Finding it uncomfortable to have his arms hanging down on either side of the branch, he slipped his arms inside the vines, making sure he could slip them out easily. Sufficiently snug, Walt fell asleep peacefully in his first night of freedom in ages.


	24. Ursine Friend

Walt encounters more wildlife and a new part of the Island.

* * *

When Danielle woke up her first thought was that she was dead. She couldn't move apart from opening her eyes, and it got dark before feeling returned to her limbs. Disoriented, she decided to wait until morning to figure out how things stood. When light came, she got up to check on Walt, and found he was not handcuffed to the other bed frame. Then she remembered leaving him hogtied outside the previous morning. Feeling bad about this, she went to get the keys, and noticed the handcuffs and leg irons were hanging on hooks.

_How can this be? How did I get here? I thought I was bitten by a spider. How could the boy have escaped? He wouldn't have come back here if he did. I … did I imagine the whole thing?_

Alarmed, she went outside to where she had tied up Walt. There was no sign of him, but the boar carcass was still where they had left it. _I remember … it took the two of us to carry this. I didn't imagine it._ Examining the ground, it did look like someone had struggled to crawl along the ground. Then she remembered throwing the handcuff key in the direction the matted-down grass led. She followed the trail, and soon found many long blades of grass that didn't match the rest in the area. _This was his grass skirt. Must have caught on this root and been ruined. Poor boy must have been naked, probably for hours, but he could have made another one wherever he went. _Danielle continued following the path to its end. _He must have found the key and freed himself. But the other keys were in the bunker. Must have hopped back and run away, but dragged me home…_

Danielle shook her head. _This is too crazy. He would have reported back to the Others and they would caught me be now. Maybe I have been seeing things._

There wasn't much evidence Walt had been there at all. The boar carcass and some out-of-place long blades of grass were not convincing evidence, as was the food supply that looked lower than she remembered. Danielle thought to check her traps, but no one was ensnared in them. If Walt was real, he might have left on any of a number of paths they had taken over the past few days. Danielle chose the one on which they had found the boar, but that was far from the direction Walt actually had run off in. She then made the practical decision of dragging the boar to her bunker on the wooden sled. She would be able to sustain herself physically indefinitely, but her mental state would remain fragile at best. Walt was safe – from Danielle at least.

* * *

Escaping the hogtie, setting Danielle's bunker in order, and running far away took much more out of Walt than he realized. He slept soundly until noon, when he woke with a tight feeling in his chest, and a growling stomach. Opening his eyes, he found himself still lying on the branch, but for some reason he couldn't move. Actually, he could move his head, and raising it he saw that the vine had somehow been pulled tight all around his body, the last two coils around the bottom and top of this chest, with his arms pinned to his side.

_How could that happen?_

Walt heard another growl, and then realized that it wasn't coming from his stomach. With dread, he turned his head to the side, and saw a large polar bear below. One paw was caught in the loose end of the vine, and the bear was tugging at it, trying to pull Walt down. _Should have wrapped that vine a couple more times around me so nothing could reach it from the ground._ Paralyzed from both fear and from the tight vine, Walt found it getting harder and harder to breath. The experience was very similar to being crushed by a boa constrictor.

Walt would have called out for help, but couldn't make a sound or draw a breath. _Jacob or anyone, I could really use some help now._ Walt was starting to black out when the pressure decreased markedly. The polar bear's claw had completely cut through the vine, and the vine had recoiled enough so it could no longer reach. Walt gratefully took several breaths, although the vine was still constricting his breathing somewhat. Walt found that he could speak.

"Thank you very much. Uh, can you now please make the bear go away?"

Apparently Walt had used up all his favors for now. The bear simply waited under the tree branch, hoping its prey would fall. The prey, however, was not about to move. Walt realized his best chance was to not make any motions that could cause him to fall, and now being wrapped up in the vine was his best insurance. The polar bear waited the rest of the day. Then it got hungry, and being able to do something about it, ambled away. On the other hand, Walt was not about to come down in the dark while the bear was in the vicinity, and accepted that he would spend a second night on the branch. Hopefully the bear would be gone by morning. _Sleeping handcuffed to that bed in Danielle's bunker was better than this. But I had to get away from her._

Luck was on Walt's side the next morning, as there was no sign of the polar bear or any other predators. He couldn't pull his arms free right away, and had to shrug his shoulders and bend his arms as far as he could. Slowly he made progress, increasing the slack. It was several minutes before he could pull one arm free, but then it was easy to extricate the other. He carefully unwound the vine, discovering deep gouge marks on his chest, stomach, legs, and the sides of his arms. Before he climbed down he surveyed the area. He could just make out a stream maybe half a kilometer away, and a grove of mango trees almost directly along the way. Beyond that was a deep ravine which was obscured by trees.

Walt carefully climbed down the vine, and once on the ground, stretched to alleviate his stiff back. Then he made his way to the mango grove. There were plenty of ripe ones, and he ate voraciously. When full, he walked leisurely to the stream, and sat down in it. The water was very refreshing, soothing many aching muscles. He was pleased to note that the marks from the handcuffs on his wrists and ankles had faded quite a bit, an unexpected benefit from the extra day of enforced rest on the tree branch. In addition, the water helped fade the gouge marks all over his body.

After soaking in the water for about half an hour, Walt suddenly realized he had to decide what to do with himself. _I've got to try to find a boat and get out of here. I wonder if I'll have to build a raft. Won't be firing a flare gun for sure._ Walt got out of the water, and tried to visualize where he was and where he had to go. _I went northeast, but the boat was on the northwest part of the island. I need to go west. The sun is there, so I have to go that way._

Walt had only gone a few steps when he heard an ominous noise. Turning around, he saw that the polar bear had returned. Walt changed direction to move away from the bear, but the bear compensated. Walt picked up his pace, walking quickly, and the bear matched him. As the beast was closing the distance between them, Walt started running, and soon came to the edge of the deep ravine. At first he thought he was trapped, but then he espied a wooden rope bridge a few decameters away. He sprinted to that, and the bear followed. Walt was dismayed to find the bridge in rather shoddy condition, but he had no choice.

The rickety bridge was around fifty meters in length and supported by four long ropes; two serving as handrails, and two supporting a myriad of wooden planks. Keeping a good grip on the handrails, Walt moved as fast as he dared, never coming down hard on a plank. When he was a quarter of the way across, the polar bear put one paw on the first plank, and stepped back, not liking the sensation of the wobbly bridge. But in doing so the bridge shook a little, and Walt lost just enough his balance to step down hard enough to send his left foot crashing through a plank. He gasped, but held on with his hands, and gingerly stepped up to get that foot on the next plank. Looking back, the bear continued to sit at the end, as if expecting Walt to be forced back.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Walt continued on. Half way across, he felt the bridge shake again. The bear was swatting at the support posts on its side. This time Walt's right foot went through a plank. He carefully lifted up his right leg, but the added weight on his left foot was enough to break the plank it was on, leaving him hanging by both hands with his body most of the way through a sizable gap in the bridge. The broken planks hit the rocky bottom a hundred meters below and splintered into many pieces.

Walt gasped again, and found the presence of mind to pull himself up, far enough to maneuver his feet onto the lower ropes. With the tenuous footholds, he kept going across the bridge, occasionally having to step over gaps. The bear, meanwhile, kept up his attack of the support posts. When Walt was three quarters of the way across, the bear succeeded in uprooting the post on the left. The ropes on that side gave way, and Walt grabbed the right handrail rope with both hands, and tried to walk on the bottom right rope. He got several steps in before the right support post was knocked down by the bear. This left Walt swinging into the face of the ravine on the far side. He braced himself by getting his feet out in front of him.

"OUCH!"

Walt hit the rocky face with some force, but managed to hang on. He had to climb eight meters up, but the few remaining planks offered some footholds, and he managed the climb rather well. Once at the top, he found his heart racing and himself panting for breath. A couple minutes later, he shook his fist at the disappointed polar bear, and then strode into the jungle, anxious to get away from the ravine. Quickly the woods became very thick, and with the sun hidden from view Walt got lost. He became frustrated, exacerbated by the fact that he had to fight for his life thanks to the polar bear. A few more minutes, and Walt stumbled over a hidden rock, and tumbled down a hill. Rising to his feet, he found himself in a large patch of waist-high grass. This grass was very clingy, and Walt found it hard to walk through it.

He still hadn't quite made it out of the thick grass patch when he lost his cool. Having to take out his frustration on someone, he raised both fists and shouted, "Jacob, why are you doing all this to me!? Haven't I been through enough?"

A strong gust of wind swept across the field. Perhaps Walt should not have addressed Jacob in that tone of voice while in the Dark Territory.


	25. Jacob Speaks

Jacob speaks to Walt, and Widmore and crew reach a destination.

* * *

Walt heard a clanking noise in the distance as the wind swept across the grassy field. Remembering that the last time he was in a somewhat similar situation, he wound up tied spread-eagled to the ground for hours by the grass, he desperately fought his way out of the savannah-like patch. He climbed a short slope and reached the edge of the woods just before the black smoke enveloped him. He grabbed onto a hanging vine for support, but the gesture was futile. Images of the faces of everyone he had met on the island or in dreams flashed before his eyes as he felt himself being buffeted by the wind and smoke. Finally, instead of whispers, he heard a deep resonant voice that sounded like it was coming from all around him.

"You must learn to respect this Island."

"J-Jacob? Who are you? What do you mean?"

The deep bass voice continued, "You need to show more gratitude. You have been given much assistance, yet continue to complain."

Walt felt Jacob was being unreasonable. "Assistance? Like that bird that flew at my face when I was hogtied? Couldn't you have found a better way to help?"

"You got all the aid you needed, and no more. Any more than that would not contribute to building your character."

"Building my character? You keep getting me almost killed, or leaving me tied up or stuck in something. And why won't you tell me who or what you are?"

There was a pause, as if Jacob was judging Walt. Then came the pronouncement, "You shall remain in this territory for the next forty days. After that you shall have the answers that you seek."

Walt retorted, "Another forty days? That's not worth it. I've had it with you and this island. I'm getting out of here."

Getting out of there at that point in time was not to be. The black smoke seized Walt, spun him around and Walt felt himself being restrained while getting dizzy. The smoke suddenly dissipated, and he found himself hanging upside-down. Like Danielle's rope trap, a loop in a vine had cinched tightly around his ankles, but on this occasion his wrists were bound tightly behind his back by another piece of vine, with his elbows bent at right ankles. Also, he was strung up much lower, as his now rather massive head of hair scraped the ground.

Walt seethed, but had to admit he wasn't completely surprised. _I got out of those other things, maybe I can get out of this._ He struggled mightily for an hour before giving up. He was close to losing consciousness when the black smoke returned. The deep voice spoke up: "You are brave, but you still have much to learn. You must accept this part of your destiny."

Exasperated, Walt agreed, "Fine! I'll stay here another forty days if you just let me go. And then I can leave, right?"

"If that is your choice at the time, then yes."

"Ha! I'm sure it will be."

"There may be other considerations then, such as the fate of your friends."

"How can I do anything about that?"

"You will know at the time."

Walt suddenly realized the position he was in. "Hey, I said I'd stay, you can let me go now. Why do you keep tying me up anyway?"

"It is necessary that you undergo these experiences to fully understand the significance of this Island. It will become clear forty days hence."

It wasn't a very satisfying answer, but Walt was in no position to argue. "It better be. And what am I supposed to do till then?"

"You once wanted to stay on this Island. Now is your opportunity to get to know the Island as well as possible, but you must avoid human contact. You understand the quest by the term "walkabout."

Walt remembered thinking about that before. The prospect was exciting and scary.

"You sure I can do that? I'm only thirteen, you know."

"Thirteen is a common age for walkabouts, and you have already learned much on this Island. You have the capability. We shall meet again in forty days."

The black smoke started to dissipate once more, leaving Walt alone and still suspended upside-down.

"Hey, you forgot to untie me!"

The voice came back with a reprimanding tone. "You are on your own now. And make that forty-one days. You must learn not to tell me what to do." With that, the smoke dissipated completely.

The part of the black smoke that had enveloped Widmore and his crew drifted across the Indian Ocean at night, from southwest to northeast. Unseen by human eyes and undetected by any radar or satellite surveillance, it continued on across Somalia, Ethiopia, Sudan, Egypt, the Mediterranean Sea, Italy, France, and finally across the English Channel to Widmore's London Headquarters. The crew was then deposited on the deserted street in front of the office building shortly before dawn. The total darkness indicated there had been a massive blackout.

Confused, the group went inside after the sun rose. Finding a portable radio, they learned that the day was June 15, 2008, meaning this last trip had taken a few days. However, the day before there had been an unheard of magnitude-nine earthquake centered in northern England. While the buildings in London were far enough away to have withstood only minor damage, the shock had disrupted the entire nation's power grid. A chill ran through Widmore's spine as he wondered if he was in some way responsible.

Back on the island, Walt raised his head to try to see the smoke, but it had gone without a trace. He gritted his teeth, finding Jacob totally unfair form treating him like this. When Walt let his head fall back, though, he noticed that it was touching the ground, and not just by his hair. A wave of excitement swept him, now caught in the thrill of another challenge up to which he was confident of rising. A smirk developed on his face.

_I got an idea._

Stiffening his neck, Walt was able to take some of the weight off the vine. Wiggling his feet, he was able to gradually work them free of the loop enclosing them. He found himself having fun again, as when he was escaping Danielle's hogtie. Bracing himself, he tumbled over onto his side. _Yes!_ He sprang up easily, thanks to similar experiences while in Danielle's handcuffs. _Did Jacob lower that branch just enough for me to do that? Or did my weight do it by myself? Eh, then that should have happened before he came back. I guess Jacob did do me one more favor, and I can stay here another day for that._

Walt then set to work on freeing his hands, but had the same results as when he was suspended upside-down.

"So Jacob, I can't get my hands loose."

There was no response. Annoyed, but not too surprised, Walt had to look for something sharp to cut the vine. He tried scraping the vine against the bark of several nearby trees, but the jungle wood was too soft. With no other choice, he wandered through the thick forest for hours, always on the watch for more traps. He had to take chances, going through areas with thorny plants in attempt to use those to cut himself free. Unfortunately the thorns were not substantial enough to cut through the vine binding his hands, and all he got for his troubles were several cuts on his defenseless chest, stomach, and legs. While the thorns didn't inflict serious damage, it was frustrating to watch the thin streams of blood trickle down his body and be unable to do anything about it.

Eventually, after around four hours of searching he came upon a rocky stream. He looked around for the sharpest rock, and sat down next to it. By sawing for half an hour at the vine behind his back with the rock edge he managed to cut himself loose. The thrill of victory was easily worth the indignity at having been trussed up for so long.

"Take that, Jacob!"

Finally free, Walt immersed himself in the stream and took a long bath. It helped a good deal with his cuts, and then he drank a good quantity of fresh water. He rubbed his aching shoulders and let them soak for a good half hour. Then it was time to look for shelter. Fortunately, in a few minutes he spotted a banyan tree, like the one within which he had taken refuge from that polar bear his first weeks on the Island. Many trunks combined to form a veritable fort, with twisting gnarled branches covering the space in between the trunks. Also nearby were several banana trees. Walt climbed one, wrestled down the ripest bunch, and lugged it to the banyan tree. With a lot of effort he climbed that, and leaving the bunch in the middle of the tree, he wormed his way through a tight fit amidst the branches to the hollow space between the trunks at ground level, landing on soft dirt. It was perfect. The natural chamber was two meters in diameter and three meters high. He could see out through the narrow spaces between the trunks, while it would be very difficult for an animal to see him inside. Even so, it would be hard to get in, beyond the capability of a wild boar or a polar bear.

Darkness fell fairly quickly in the cozy abode. Walt lay down on the dirt, yawned, stretched, and closed his eyes. Belatedly he realized he hadn't thought of fashioning any kind of covering like a sheet, but thanks to Danielle he was used to that. What did feel strange, thought, was having so much freedom of movement. Walt twitched for a few minutes, and then fell fast asleep, getting an excellent night's rest.


	26. Waltabout Part One

Author's notes: Carolyn, you're right, I meant for Walt make another grass skirt before bringing Danielle back, but ... just picture him however you want; it isn't important. All4jesus, thank you for helping me realize there was more of a parallel between Walt and Locke than I had realized. You've both given me ideas for this continuation.

* * *

On his walkabout, Walt's survival skills are tested as he encounters island artifacts no one had told him about.

* * *

Walt slept late the next morning, but woke up refreshed. He clambered up the trunks to where he had stashed the bananas, and ate a couple of them. Then he searched for the opening from which he had descended the evening before. Finding the way back through the twisted branches wasn't obvious. After several false starts he found himself back standing on the ground in the middle of the trunks. _Ha. It's like I jailed myself._ Fortunately, he found his situation more humorous than threatening, and laughed it off. Upon trying a different opening, narrower than some others at the start, he found a path back to a point high enough where the trunks diverged sufficiently for him to get through and climb down on the outside. Before doing so he ate another pair of bananas, reaching down this time to get at the bunch he had stored.

The next order of business was to find water. Walt wasn't sure where the stream he had encountered the day before was, so he made a systematic search, dropping banana peels at certain points so he could find his way back. He paused from time to time to listen, and while he never heard any animals, he did eventually hear the trickle of the stream. He collected the banana peels and set them down again in a direct path from his tree to the stream. Like the day before, he drank a good amount of water, and took a good, long soak. While the water was quite warm, it was still a few degrees cooler than the tropical air, and provided a nice refreshing experience. By the time he got up, the sun was quite close to the western horizon. He calmly made his way back to his tree home, eating more bananas on the way in. On this occasion he paid more attention to his path down among the branches, so he would be able to get out easily the next morning and not be so much of a prisoner in his own house. He lay down on his back with his head, now covered in a large mass of unkempt, disheveled hair that was practically a pillow, in his hands, and reflected on his day.

_Kind of boring, but I can handle this. Much better than being in handcuffs or chains all the time. Tomorrow I got to find some other kind of food. Forty more days and this will be over._

However, that night Walt's sleep would not go undisturbed. A vision of a bald man in a wheelchair came to him, and engaged him in conversation.

"Walter! This is not how you go on a walkabout!"

"Wh-what? Mr. Locke? What do you mean?"

"You do not stay in one place all the time. You must explore, get to know this Island as well as possible."

"But it's dangerous. Why can't I just hang around here, where it's safer than anywhere else?"

"You must prove yourself to Jacob. It will be more dangerous for you, and everyone else, if you don't perform your walkabout to the best of your ability."

"Why? How can I make such a difference?"

"You are special. You have some connection with Jacob, and he is extremely powerful. Should you displease him, terrible events will befall the world. There will be catastrophic earthquakes and tsunamis, unchecked epidemics of AIDS and bird flu, widespread nuclear fallout, and a re-emergence of the bubonic plague. All life on the planet could vanish in a few years."

"What? That's crazy. I can't control all that."

"Yes you can, Walt. I must go now."

"Wait, can't you tell me more …" but the image of Locke had vanished. Walt tossed and turned, and soon found himself in another setting. He was standing near a fire in a primitive village. All the inhabitants wore only dull red or brown loincloths, as was he. This was an Aboriginal settlement deep in the heart of the Australian Outback, perhaps two hundred years in the past.

The occasion was Walt's fourteenth birthday, and in this tribe this was when a child was required to go on his or her walkabout. They had to live alone for six months, taking all they needed to survive from the environment. Upon their return they would be considered adults. While the ritual may have seemed harsh, it kept the tribe strong, and by that age children were highly adept in survival skills so there was a very high success rate.

According to the local custom, Walt stripped off his loincloth and tossed it in the fire. A quick and voluminous burst of black smoke erupted, and just as quickly dissipated. Without a word, he turned around and strode away into the adjoining forest. To make it a true test the participants had to start off with absolutely nothing. They had to use their abilities and wits to obtain any food, clothing, and shelter they needed. Clothing was by far the least important, due to both the interminable heat and the expected lack of human contact. Besides, with the growth spurts common at that age only a new, larger loincloth would be needed at the end of the journey.

After walking several kilometers without ever looking back, Walt came to a location he sensed was right. He felt some connection with the animals, knowing instinctively which were friendly, and which were hostile and might be considered sources of food. He knew from which plants he could extract water, and which plants bore edible fruits and bulbs. Building a solid, sturdy shelter out of branches was no problem for him, and he settled in for the night.

Then Walt woke up, for real. He was not in the seventeenth or eighteenth century Outback, but he was on the Island, somewhere in the equatorial Pacific, on the dawn of August 8, 2004. Had he kept track of the days and been in the outside world, he would have realized he had turned fourteen three weeks previously. But the relative times on and off the Island were not important now. Walt was alert and imbued with a strong sense of purpose. He stretched, and climbed up to eat some of the last remaining ripe bananas. Then he efficiently made his way through the branches and to the outside of the banyan tree. He went to the stream to get a good drink of water, and returned to the tree.

Having no clue as to in which direction he should proceed, he closed his eyes and spun around a few times and selected the direction he was facing. The stream would be a few decameters to his right, and using the sun as a guide he knew he could turn in that direction and reach the source of water if necessary. As he walked along, he practiced not making a sound, and became quite adept at that. There were enough trees along the way bearing fruit such as mangoes and papayas that he had no trouble getting enough nourishment. More banyan trees occasionally dotted the landscape, and Walt realized he had been too concerned with shelter as well. There was plenty of it out there if one knew what to look for, and Walt was definitely in that category by now.

He had been walking for eight hours when he spotted a large object that was definitely out of place. Approaching cautiously, he found it hard to believe he was looking at a ship. _How did this get to the middle of the island? Maybe a tidal wave?_ Keeping still, there was no noise around like usual, not even birds or insects chirping. Walt got close enough to see faded letters on the bow spelling out the ship's name: the "Black Rock." _Why didn't anybody tell me about this? Or did anyone else find this? _There was a large hole in the hull, and Walt carefully approached that. As he touched the wooden vessel, a cold chill ran through his body. Despite the heat he shivered for a few seconds. Withdrawing his hand, he peeked inside. The sunlight shone through enough for Walt to see some boxed labeled "dynamite," and then several shackles set into the bulkhead. Alarmed, Walt backed off.

_What kind of ship was this? Pirate? Slave?_

Shuddering, Walt knew he wanted to get out of there. He kept going in roughly the same direction for another hour, and then turned right to the east. As expected, after another bit of a hike he encountered water, which he guessed was the same stream as before. He collected another meal of fruit and water, and found his way back to a banyan tree not too far away that he had seen on the way, and settled in the for the night.

With no strange dreams that night, Walt concluded he was on the right track. He continued his trek, calmly and without urgency. Two days went by without him finding anything of interest, yet he remain unconcerned. When the Island wanted to reveal something to him, it would. In good sprits, Walt wondered why it had been so hard for the passengers to survive in the days following the crash of Oceanic 815. He reasoned that for some reason he had remained in good health, and way up here there were plenty of resources for one person, while feeding forty-odd people could put a big strain on those resources.

The next day Walt encountered another object that appeared quite out of place. He blinked to make sure he wasn't imagining things, but there it was – a giant statue of a lower leg. _Why is this here? Who would have built such a thing? _There was something odd about it, and as Walt got closer, he realized that the foot had only four toes. Reflexively he looked at his own bare feet, but they were normal with the full complement of five toes apiece. Well, perhaps not completely normal as his soles had grown exceptionally tough due to so much walking the past few months, but that was not a problem. Next, he cautiously touched the base of the statue, and felt a tingle throughout his body, but not as strong as the one when he touched the Black Rock.

There was nothing more to do at the statue. _Maybe someone will explain it to me one day._ Walt continued his walkabout, developing a map in his mind and trying to cover as much of the island as practical. Three more days passed with nothing unusual, and then Walt came across a lake he would have to cross or go around to make more progress. He waded a short ways in, and marveled at how clear it was. The lake was about fifty meters wide and two hundred meters long, with Walt near the middle of the long edge. He was debating what to do when he noticed a vine hanging from a tree branch a short distance away. The vine hung almost directly over the edge of a steep embankment about three meters wide. A mischievous smile broke over Walt's face.

_No one said I couldn't have some fun on my walkabout._

Walt went over to the vine, and tested it by pulling on it with all his weight. The vine held, so Walt stepped back as far as he could while holding onto it, then raced out over the edge, letting go when the vine had swung as far as it could. He hit the water with a big splash. _That was awesome!_ He paddled back toward the tree. The embankment was too steep to climb, so he had to go a few meters to the side to scamper back up. He repeated the procedure.

"Cannonball!"

Walt took about another twenty jumps into the lake before deciding it was time to swim across. On the opposite was another steep muddy bank, this one closer to ten meters wide with a slope of forty-five degrees. Walt paddled to the side of this embankment, and it required some effort to climb up. Still, he was drawn to the top of the steep slope. He sat down on the edge, looking back from where he had come. Then he looked down. The slope looked very smooth and slick. He shifted forward, as if compelled to test how far he could lean over without falling.

His weight caused the ground to give way on one side. As he body slid down, he swung around, grasping the edge with both hands and flailing his feet, trying to get a foothold on the muddy slope. But no foothold was possible, and in a few seconds Walt was hanging his full length by his hands with his stomach on the bank. He should have been able to find the strength to pull himself up – but he didn't want to. Instead, he slowly loosened his grip until …

"WHHHEEEEE!"

The slide was exhilarating. Walt surfaced and paddled to the edge, and climbed up again. He discovered his front side was rather muddy. _Oops, guess I have to clean up._ His method of cleaning up was to slide down on his back. He made a half-hearted effort to wash himself off, and came out of the lake again. Drawn to the top of the slope like a magnet, this time he lay face down with his waist at the edge. _I wonder how far I can lean over without falling. Uh-oh._ Walt "accidentally" leaned over too far, and slid head-first down the bank. He couldn't keep a grin off his face. _I need some exercise. I think I'll do some inclined sit-ups._ With that excuse, Walt lay face up with his waist at the edge. He leaned way back, and actually managed four steeply inclined sit-ups before his butt slid back off the edge, sending him down head-first on his back.

Walt continued this for some time, making up silly excuses as to why he had to keep going to the top of his slide. He also repeatedly "forgot" to wash himself off, and as the mud accumulated all over his body it make the ensuing slides slipperier and quicker. He made at least another twenty slides in all positions, including spinning like a wheel on his way down, before deciding that enough was enough. He washed himself off good for real, and set about for another part of the island.

His diversion had left Walt in high spirits, so much that it overcame his loneliness. Another week passed with no major discoveries, and he whiled away some of that time by swinging on vines. If anything looked familiar, he veered off in another direction in order to cover more ground. He got used to sleeping in trees, and had no problems on a few occasions where he wrapped himself with vines, as he made sure to keep any loose ends out of reach. But no animals were around, as if they had been scared off by hunting expeditions, and taken refuge in the mountains far to the north.

As the next day wound down, Walt climbed a large mango tree for an evening meal. He scooted out along a thick branch, no more than two meters above the ground, moving along underneath it with his ankles crossed above it. He got within reach of several mangoes, when without warning the branch broke off. Walt twisted so that the branch wouldn't hit him in the head, and as a result the branch landed across his hips as he landed on his back. It could have been worse, but Walt's massive amount of hair cushioned the blow to his head.

Walt needed a minute to get his thoughts in order and regain his breath. It felt like the branch pinning him to the ground weighed a hundred kilograms. He couldn't sit up very far, and couldn't get much leverage to budge the branch in any direction, up or away from him. He wiggled his toes, relieved to find there was no damage to his legs. However, for all his squirming he couldn't make any progress in escaping from under the heavy branch. He looked around for any objects that might help him. Unfortunately, the smaller branches that broke off in the fall were all out of reach. To add insult to injury, so were the many mangoes that fell off.

Realizing he was stuck, he tried an old idea. "Uh, Jacob? I could really use some help now." There was no answer, no wind, no whispers, no anything. _Am I being punished for fooling around in that lake?_ "Hey, I'm sorry if I messed up in that lake. I really needed something fun for a change. Just please help me, and let me know what I have to do."

All that happened was that the sun went down. Unable to do anything useful in the dark, Walt resigned himself to sleeping in his current position. Fortunately his breathing was unhindered, which hadn't been the case when he got pinned by the barbell while alone in Desmond's hatch. _That seems so long ago. How different would things have been if I remembered to tell him the right bearing to get back to this island? I hope Jacob tells me when I'm done with this walkabout._ Exhausted from the effort in trying to extricate himself, Walt managed to fall asleep fairly quickly despite the heavy branch.


	27. Waltabout Part Two

Walt's walkabout continues, and he tries to save a friend.

* * *

The next morning Walt woke to the sun's bright warm rays bearing down on his face and chest. The feeling was unusual, as he had been waking up in the shelter in the midst of banyan trees. Then he remembered where he was, pinned to the ground by the heavy tree branch lying across his hips. His legs had gone numb, but he was able to rotate his feet, and in a few minutes the feeling in his legs returned. However, he still couldn't budge the branch, or squirm in any direction. The ground was too hard to dig out from underneath him with his bare hands. Like the day before, any objects that might be helpful, like smaller branches, were out of reach. After an hour of wriggling, writhing, and contortions, Walt had to admit defeat and lay back, closing his eyes with his head resting on his built-in pillow.

His stomach growled as he tried to think his way out of this situation. He had gotten out of several predicaments already, but on other occasions he definitely had needed help. The sun rose higher and bore down more directly on his body, and his mind drifted back to another occasion when he was affixed to a tree. Something Alex said about his hair … needing a haircut … _That's it!_ _My hair! Maybe I can use that to pull some mangoes to me, and at least not starve right away._

Walt's eyes snapped open, now re-energized with the prospect of having something to do. He pulled out a few strands of his hair. Straightened out, they were twenty-five to thirty centimeters in length. _How can I use these to get a mango? They're not the right shape for this. But maybe I can use my hair to reach a stick, and use the stick to push the mangoes to where I can reach them._

The nearest stick, just a small twig about as long as Walt's hair, was half a meter from Walt's outstretched left hand. This would take a lot of work, but Walt had time. He twisted several strands of his hair together to make them stronger, and tied two clumps together to make them long enough. Then he tied a loop in one end, so that he could encircle a small nub on the closest twig. With the preparation made, he reached for the twig, but his hair curled back too much to its natural shape. He tried to tell himself it would be more satisfying if it was more of a challenge. He twisted his makeshift piece of twine around his fingers in the opposite direction of the hair's natural curl, and eventually it stayed straight enough to use.

Straining, Walt extended his left arm toward the twig, and after a couple attempts got the loop on the end around the nub on the twig. He carefully pulled his arm in, but the loop slipped after dragging the twig a few centimeters. Remaining calm, Walt tried again, and on the next attempt he succeeded in drawing the twig all the way in. He smiled broadly as he held his prize, which had become his most valuable material possession.

The twig wasn't long enough to reach any fruit, or even a long stick, but Walt knew what to do now. He tied the non-loop end of his twine made of his hair to the end of the twig, and with this right hand reached for the next-closest stick, about a meter long. He fished for a small protruding branch on the larger stick, and after another few attempts reeled that in. This stick was long enough to reach the two closest mangoes, one on each side. It was as if Walt was playing some kind of game, nudging and rolling the mangoes closer and closer, until finally he had his meal.

Upon devouring the mangoes, Walt looked around to see what else he might reach with the longer stick. Behind his head was a still longer stick, more like a small branch. Reaching over his head, Walt was able to snag that with the medium length stick and bring the small branch within reach. This was a good two meters long, and Walt used it to bring several more mangoes within reach. He ate most of those, but left four of them to the side for later.

His next idea was to use the small branches as a lever to push the heavy branch enough to get free from under it, but that idea had no chance as the sticks he had were way too light. Consequently he had to resign himself to another night pinned to the ground. He hadn't realized how long it had taken to collect all his little treasures, and was surprised to see the sun setting. So it came to pass that Walt spent his entire tenth birthday, August 24, 2004 by Island Time, in his fourteen-year old body stuck under the heavy tree branch. Hopefully something good would happen in the next day or so.

The next morning something good did happen, as Walt woke to rain pounding his supine body. He knew what to do: he simply opened his mouth, and drank many mouthfuls of fresh water. The juice from the mangoes was enough to keep him going the day before, and now he would have enough water to last a couple more days. The pellets also helped restore feeling in his legs, and felt good bouncing off his chest and arms. He kept his eyes closed as he thought of things he might try now that he was more refreshed.

After a few hours of the rainstorm, Walt felt a new sensation. The heavy branch was driving Walt's butt into the ground. The dirt around Walt had become saturated with water, turning it into mud. Recognizing the opportunity, Walt feverishly dug around his rear, trying to create enough space to pull his legs out before the branch pushed down too far. When it got difficult, Walt used the stouter branches to help him dig. Fortunately, the ends of the large heavy branch didn't sink into the ground more that a few centimeters, and Walt didn't need a whole lot of room to slide his legs through. Within fifteen minutes Walt was free. He crawled out and rubbed his legs, getting the circulation going full blast.

After close to two days of being pinned, he was anxious to see how well he could walk. He scooped up the mangoes he had thoughtfully set aside and struggled to his feet, but sank to his knees in the muddy ground. Still concerned that his legs might not be working properly, he went ahead slogged through the mud a few steps. He was relieved to find his legs working fine, and now felt compelled to release a lot of pent-up energy. He set down the mangoes and beat his chest, and yelled out,

"Jacob, are you listening? I guess I didn't need your help after all, so that's why you left me alone? How am I doing?"

There was no answer, not too big a surprise as it seemed that Jacob had indeed left Walt to fend for himself on his walkabout. But then a bolt of lightning struck the mango tree whose branch had fallen onto Walt. Walt was close enough to feel the electricity, surging through the ground and his legs up through his body, and momentarily causing his hair to stand on end and paralyzing him. Moreover, the ground shook and the mud around Walt shifted, and he felt himself sinking. _Oh no, not again!_ Unable to move after the lightning strike, Walt could only watch helplessly as his upper legs slid smoothly below the surface.

"Jacob, is this your doing? I'm sorry for whatever I did to upset you."

The plea may have fallen on deaf ears, or more likely ignoring ears. On the plus side, Walt knew what to expect. He stopped sinking just before the mud reached his navel. Then the rain let up but didn't stop, and feeling returned to his arms and legs. He knew from experience that he shouldn't try to free himself until the ground had hardened enough, or he would just go in deeper and make it more difficult. Instead, he just tried to make the best of things and enjoy the squishy feeling.

Fortunately the mangoes Walt had set down were within reach, and he ate one slowly, figuring he might need to ration them. Annoyingly, light rain persisted until evening, and then it got too dark for Walt to see what he was doing. He ate one more mango, and then leaning forward, he got what sleep he could in that position.

The next day was similar. There was plenty of light rain, and Walt drank enough so thirst would not be a problem. However, out of frustration Walt tried to step out of the mud, but quit when his navel disappeared from view. He ate the two mangoes slowly throughout the course of the day, and spent another night sleeping in an awkward position.

Things were much brighter the following day. The sun had come out, and the ground was firm enough for Walt to wiggle and claw his way out. He took a deep breath, and continued his walkabout. He remembered where the last stream he had crossed was, and washed off his lower body in that. Done with yet another bath, he continued on in a new direction. Tired of mangoes, he was pleased to find a small orchard of kiwifruit trees. Finding several ripe fruit, he consumed those for his next meal.

After another day of wandering and a night spent within the friendly confines of a banyan tree, Walt came across a cave. A small amount of light shone inside. Walt was wary, yet drawn to the cave, as if compelled to investigate. He took a few steps inside, and shuddered when he saw two skeletons lying side by side. Walt's body tingled briefly, and then he ran out into the reassuring daylight.

A couple days later, Walt was roaming around the higher elevations, and spotted a tall tower. He looked around, but there were no people or animals in the area. _This is probably that radio tower they were talking about. Can I use it now to call for help? Should I? Or just as a shelter? Jacob might get mad._ Walt tried the door, but it was locked. Letting that make the decision for him, he left in search of new objects.

In three more days, Walt saw appeared to be a doll or stuffed animal lying at the base of a tree. He walked toward it, and then remembered something similar – Danielle's trap that he had walked into, and left him hanging upside-down, followed by his being her prisoner for six weeks. Examining the device from a distance, Walt saw that there was a vine attached to the stuffed toy, leading up a tree, and to a net containing a large number of boulders. Walt couldn't be sure exactly how it worked, but was pretty sure a lot of heavy rocks would come crashing down on anyone who tried to take the toy. Walt steered clear of it.

Two days later Walt came close to another trip wire stretched across a trail. Fortunately his eyes had long been well adjusted to anything out of place, and he stopped short in plenty of time. This device looked more complicated, with a series of ropes and pulleys, and it looked like arrows would shoot at the end. It would be neat to have a weapon like an arrow, so Walt considered setting the trap off, by throwing rocks from a distance or something like that. But two things weighed on his mind. It could be dangerous, and it might be violating the spirit of the walkabout. If Walt was to have a weapon, he really should make it himself. Jacob might not approve, and Walt might end up stuck under a tree or waist-deep in mud for two days, or tied up in vines or long grass, or something worse. As nothing bad had happened to Walt in quite some time, discretion won out, and Walt moved off in another direction.

It would be two days before Walt came across something else interesting. On this occasion he spotted an out-of-place object a little ways into a clearing. He made sure there were no wires or vines attached, and got close enough to see that it was a statue, broken in two pieces. The object was around twenty-five to thirty centimeters long, and depicted a woman in what might be religious clothing. Resting on the inside edge of one piece was a small packet. Walt picked it up, and it practically fell apart in his hands due to age, and white powder flew into his eyes and nose. He threw the statue and packet down, and took a few staggering steps before passing out sprawled out on the ground.

When Walt woke up the next day, he had a bit of a headache. He got up and took several deep breaths, and his head mostly cleared. _What was that? Drugs? How come nobody ever told me about that?_ Walt shook his head, and then blinked as he couldn't believe his eyes.

There was a light airplane perched on the edge of a cliff at the end of the clearing. Walt walked quickly toward it. _How long has that been there? Wouldn't it have fallen over if it's been here a long time? Maybe there's someone alive in there who needs help._ Walt knew he wasn't supposed to interact with other people on his walkabout, but he wouldn't be able to live with himself if someone died when he could have prevented it. _If I have to, I can do another walkabout for forty days. Or forty-one._ The only way to reach the plane quickly was to climb a network of vines and roots up the side of the cliff. This was certainly no problem for Walt, who by now could climb like a monkey. He made it to the top easily, and worked his way to a hole in the fuselage, and peeked in.

"Anybody here?"

Walt took one step in, and the plane creaked. Walt quickly stepped out, reeling a bit from the bad smell in the interior. Then his mind cleared, and he realized what the plane was. _This is the plane Boone got killed in. No, he got hurt in when it fell, and he died of the injuries. Except … it hasn't happened yet._ Walt reflected on better times, when Boone was watching Locke teach him how to throw knives. Boone was also Locke's friend, and had offered Walt encouragement. Until Michael messed things up of course.

_I can save Boone. The plane tipped from just his weight. I should be able to push it over._

Walt surveyed the situation, and chose a spot where a tree was close to the plane. Walt braced himself with his back against the tree, and put his foot against the plane. He pushed hard, and the plane creaked a little. He kept it up, getting both feet on the side of the plane and pushed out as hard as he could. He was reminded of working out with the weights in Desmond's hatch. The plane was stubborn, but it slowly yielded to Walt's strength. After a few minutes its center of gravity fell just off the edge of the cliff, and then it slowly turned, and crashed to the ground ten meters below.

Walt was left holding onto the tree and gasping for breath. _Should I have done that?_ There was nothing else of interest on the mesa Walt was now standing on, so he climbed back down. However, the ground at the top had been weakened by the plane's slow fall. Halfway down a root that was serving as a foothold shifted, and Walt's foot slipped off it into a loop of a vine. In trying to free that foot, Walt's other foot slipped, and he started to tumble sideways. He kept his grip on vines with his hands, but rolled sideways, with vines wrapping around his body, tying his legs together and pinning his arms in front of his body. He made one more effort to free an arm, but that caused the vine that arm was holding to come lose, and sent him crashing into the face of the cliff, no more than two meters from the ground. The impact stunned Walt, and he just didn't have it in him to fight off the impending unconsciousness.


	28. Waltabout Part Three

Walt experiences more of the Island as his walkabout winds down, and gets himself in more trouble.

* * *

As the sun rose, Walt woke up to find himself wrapped up in vines and dangling against the face of the cliff. At one time this would have concerned him greatly, but as long as no one could see him this state of affairs was no big deal, and he simply yawned. While his upper arms were pinned to his sides, his forearms were caught against his stomach, and he was sure he could generate enough freedom of movement to free his hands. He was only two meters above the ground, and had no concern about falling a significant distance. Rather, he considered that this would be a nice diversion contrasted to possibly more long hikes with little of interest.

Ordinarily he would have begun the process to free himself, but on this occasion he felt no hurry. Instead, it felt as if the vines were hugging him. This was one kid who needed a hug. It had been a long time since he had had one, and now perhaps the Island was accommodating him. Walt realized he could stay that way for quite a while. He closed his eyes, and shifted his body, shrugging his shoulders and legs from time to time to keep the circulation in good order. In this manner he got three hours of deep relaxation, and then his stomach growled. _Oh well, there was no way I could stay all day like this._

Almost reluctantly, Walt commenced the process to free himself. It was a little more challenging than he thought, as one vine had wrapped around his upper arms, chest, and back, and prevented him from pulling his arms apart. Walt cracked a bemused smile, and thought the problem through. His solution was to alternately suck in his stomach and expand his chest, straining with his arms to gain more freedom of movement, albeit a few millimeters at a time. In a few minutes he was able to get one forearm free from against his stomach, and right after that the other forearm. With the use of his arms below the elbows, he could grab the vine around his upper arms, and gradually pushed that over his head, again assisting by several deep breaths. Once his arms were completely free it was trivial to unwind the vines coiling around his legs, and then climb down to the ground with only minor marks on his body. Pleased, he allowed himself a vigorous chest thump before proceeding.

Walt set toward the last known water source, but immediately almost tripped over a metal door set in the ground. Actually it was a double door in the shape of an octagon. Walt seized the handle, and pulled hard. It took a couple of tries, but thanks to his weightlifting in the Swan Hatch, he managed to open it. A long ladder led down. Carefully testing the rungs, Walt descended into the Pearl Hatch. At the bottom were a large number of monitors, but the power was out. _Do these look all over the island? Too bad Sayid isn't here; if anyone could get these working it would be him._ There was also the beginning of a pneumatic tube, and some cylinders that would fit inside. Walt was tempted to put one in, but was afraid that might get him in trouble.

Without the capability of bringing the monitors to life, Walt had nothing to do but to climb back up. He lowered the heavy door, trying not to make too much noise. Wiping his brow from the effort, he again went toward his last water source, but his eyes spotted something lying on the ground that he hadn't seen the day before. _Uh oh, is that a body from that plane?_ As Walt got closer, he could tell that it was, and had been lying there for some time. He backed off after thinking the deceased resembled Mr. Eko, a man who had identified himself in a dream while Walt had first met Desmond. However, the face was too badly decomposed to be sure. Walt wanted to give the body a proper burial, but a sense that he should leave it alone swept over him. Besides, he didn't have the right tools, or anything at all for that matter, and getting too close might be hazardous. He satisfied himself with a silent prayer and hurried out of the area.

Within an hour Walt was back at a stream, drinking water and washing himself off, alleviating the vine marks. Then it was time to get back to exploring. The next day, Walt couldn't believe his eyes at the sight of a giant candy cane. Getting closer, he realized that it was the other end of the pneumatic tube, and there was a mountain of uncollected light plastic cylinders. Opening one, he saw it contained a notebook of boring observations. Tossing it aside, he got down to business. He couldn't resist climbing the huge pile. It was not very stable, but by crawling he made it to the top, eight meters high. Standing, he got a good view of the area, able to see mountains, lakes, rivers, and the jungle, and got a good mental image of a large section of the island. Then he wobbled, his footing gave way, and he plunged down to his armpits in the large pile. He stood there for a few minutes, bracing himself with his arms spread on the surface. The sensation was pleasant, and he feigned disappointment. _This is like that leaf pit. It's hopeless, I have to sink to the bottom and get out from there._

Walt moved his legs, and got his wish. Thrashing wildly, he descended slowly through the pile, reaching the bottom in a minute. He misjudged how dark it would be, and had to fight his way out blindly, pushing cylinders aside as he struggled to make his way forward. The unexpected difficulty added to the thrill, and he was smiling broadly once his head poked through the sloping side of the mound of cylinders.

_That was awesome! I am so doing that again!_

Walt had definitely messed up the pile, but he made it neater again by throwing the cylinders back up. He wound up making a neater, higher pyramid, this one ten meters in height. He crawled back up, and stood at the top, getting an even better view than before, and committing more of the island geography to memory. _I'm the king of the mountain!_ Walt vigorously beat his chest, and the movement caused the cylinders under his feet to shift, sending him downward as anticipated. Two-thirds the way down he stopped. Being surrounded in darkness by the plastic cylinders gave Walt a warm feeling, and he felt more strongly connected to the island. He held still for fifteen minutes, then flailed again to dive to the bottom, and fought his way out again like before. Emerging into the sunshine, he felt extraordinarily refreshed and invigorated.

After another day of wandering, he noticed something out of place behind some bushes. It turned out to be the metal door of the Staff Hatch, which opened with a lot of effort. Cautiously creeping in, Walt saw various medical equipment, but what shocked him was a discovery in a locker room: hauntingly familiar clothes, and a fake beard. _That's what that guy, Tom, from the raft was wearing._ Hoping to avoid some kind of repeat, Walt took the items. He exited the Staff, and weighted the disguise down with rocks in the nearest stream. _Will that stop me from getting kidnapped again, if there is another me? _Shaken, he continued on.

Another day later, he came across an old van that was lying on its side. _It would be neat if that thing worked._ Walt walked up to it, and tried to right the vehicle, but not being endowed with super strength had no chance. It would take three or four grown men to get that thing back up. _Well, I'm still too young to get a driver's license anyway._ He took one last look inside, and was spooked to see a skeleton in the driver's seat. He backed off quickly, eager to go anywhere else.

The next day, he found another hatch. This one was the Arrow, and while it had abandoned for some time, the wooden door was unlocked. Walt entered, and saw only a large metal box. Curious, he set to opening it. It was difficult, but once the lid was removed, there were three objects inside, a mysterious glass eye, a Bible, and a radio. _A radio? Who would I call? The wrong people are more likely to hear me. And Jacob would probably get mad at me. Maybe as a last resort._ Walt then thumbed through the Bible, and saw surprised to see some pieces of video tape inside. Unable to tell what it was, he put everything back the way it had been, and closed the lid of the metal box. He exited the Arrow Hatch, closing the door behind him the way it had been.

Soon there was another monstrous storm. _Monsoon season? But didn't that Arzt make that up?_ Walt took refuge in another banyan tree, falling asleep while leaning against an inside edge. When he woke up the next morning, he found he had sunk up to his chest in mud, still in the sitting position, and that the mud had dried up in the early morning. It took him most of the day to get free, clawing at the dirt with his bare hands as his legs were firmly locked in place.

The next day started out sunny, but it didn't last. In mid-morning, Walt looked up, and saw more dark clouds approaching. Not wishing to be stuck in a muddy area again, he made for higher ground, toward the mountains. There was a pass to the Others' village through the mountains, but Walt was far to the east of that. The ground was rockier now, and when the rains came the path Walt was on held up. He was able to amble around for hours, in effect taking a very extended shower. This storm, while moderately heavy, had no lightning or thunder, and Walt felt no need to seek shelter. Instead, the pounding rain felt good on his shoulders and was refreshing overall, as if it was washing away his problems. After walking for a couple hours, Walt lay face down on a flat spot, and let the rain massage his back. He had a similar experience while trapped in Danielle's net, but this was quite a bit better without the confining ropes. He considered this a well-deserved gift from the Island.

After several hours the storm abated. Walt got up, and had a magnificent view of endless ocean. He picked a different way down, finding a path heading southward that had a steep mountain face on his right. On his left it started out level, and then a small ridge a meter high developed, covered with dense brush. He couldn't see over the brush, but did hear running water below. In another minute Walt got a bad feeling when a stone he stepped on descended into the ground four or five centimeters. _Uh oh, a trap._ Walt looked around, and saw a vine leading from under the stone to a tree, but couldn't see what it led to. Warily he stepped off the stone, the vine pulled free, and a large ball of spikes swung at him. The sphere was half a meter in diameter and implanted with dozens of sharp sticks pointing in every direction.

With less than a second to react, Walt took the only course of action he could. He dived over the ridge to his left, crashing through the brush on top that scraped his waist hard. He felt the breeze as the ball missed his feet by millimeters. However, on the other side of the ridge was a steep rock face fronting a raging stream ten meters below. Walt tumbled down the rock face and lunging, managed to grab the only handhold available, which was a tree root protruding nearly four meters out of the rock face. His momentum had carried him away from the rock wall, and he had seized the root near its end. His weight caused the root to bend and then crack in the middle, but not break apart completely, instead remaining in an inverted L-shape.

Walt assessed his situation. Dangling precariously in the raw from the end of an unstable root over a raging river was not how he intended to finish his walkabout, but that was the situation with which he had to deal. It might be possible to climb the root and reach the rock face, but that would leave him five meters below the ridge he had dived over. Examining the rock wall, there was no apparent way to climb it. It was very steep and there were no handholds or footholds available. Looking down, Walt saw it would be a drop of four meters into the water. Walt realized that his best option was to make a controlled drop into the river. He took a deep breath, and swung for the deepest spot within range, and let go.


	29. Swamp Thing

Walt encounters a few more minor obstacles on his way to the boat, where he might not be alone.

* * *

The plan worked perfectly. Walt hit with a moderate splash in water deep enough that he didn't hit the bottom and hurt himself. He bobbed back up, and floated along with the strong current. There were no good climbing opportunities on either side, as there was another steep rock wall on the side opposite the one Walt had tumbled part way down. Consequently Walt concentrated on avoiding the occasional boulder in the stream raging down the ravine. _How long can this river be? It must empty into the ocean, right?_

The river turned around a corner, and became increasingly loud. Bouncing around, Walt tried to see what was ahead, but it looked like nothing was there. Then he realized, _Waterfall!_ For a moment he panicked, turning around and trying to swim upstream, but he was no match for the current. He could touch the sides, but not grab onto anything. It was inevitable; he was going over the edge. In case there were rocks at the bottom it was actually best to be going as fast as possible. Bravely, Walt swam with the stream, and jumped the best he could as he went over.

Arms and legs flailing, Walt flew over the edge of what turned out to be a ten-meter high waterfall. The impact stunned him, but he had cleared any rocks at the base of the falls. The current continued to propel him forward, but at a much lower speed. Unable to resist, Walt drifted first into a lake, and then into a wide outlet that was densely populated with gnarly bushes and short trees. Normally this region was a large flat dry expanse of forest, but due to the recent heavy rains was now a floodplain. Walt was well into the expanse when he noticed the water was shallow enough to stand in.

The current was still pushing Walt, so he held onto a branch, careful to avoid thorns. The water here was up to his armpits, and he took a few minutes to catch his breath. Deciding the best way to go was the way he came, he turned around and tried to take a step back, but the current prevented him from doing so, and he staggered backwards. He regained his balance in water that was much stiller and just over chest-deep. Taking more steps, he found that he couldn't backtrack past a certain point, as if the island was compelling him to go forwards, or at least sideways.

Walt tried to get his bearings, and on this occasion failed miserably. The brush was so thick that he couldn't see the sun, and yet too flimsy for him to climb. Occasionally he could climb a meter or so on a slender tree, but never high enough to see over the tops of the surrounding trees. Consequently he was never sure in which direction to proceed. He wandered around for an hour, but couldn't escape the maze. He hoped to find higher ground, but the water level never went below his chest, and ranged as high as his eyes on several occasions. Fortunately the ground was rocky and firm enough that Walt didn't sink into any more mud, but Walt's position was embarrassing enough.

Exasperated, Walt tried to go in a straight line, but there was a lack of landmarks, and it was difficult to keep objects lined up as he had to go around bushes frequently. Then the sky suddenly grew darker, and Walt realized he was spending the night in this swamp-like region. _I'm going to have to sleep here, but how do I avoid drowning?_ After getting a good drink of what proved to be still fresh water, Walt came up with the idea of standing in armpit-deep water while hooking his arms and wrists around some branches. This way there wouldn't be much weight on his arms, and his head would stay above water. In this manner Walt successfully got an unusual night's sleep.

When Walt woke up at nine in the morning, there was no feeling in his arms. During the night the water level subsided, down from his armpits to just below his chest, but as a result the trees he had hooked his arms around had snapped back into a more vertical shape, and left his wrists wedged in crooks between branches with his arms stretched straight out to the sides. He blinked his eyes, and recalled where he was. He tried pulling the trees together, but barely budged them with his numb arms. Dumbfounded, Walt could only stand there, feeling like he was being crucified.

After a few minutes to get over the shock, Walt took a deep breath and repeatedly opened and closed his hands. For a while he wasn't sure he was accomplishing anything, but in several minutes he could feel the circulation coming back to his hands and arms. He then tried to bring the higher tree branches close enough to hook them together and take the strain off his arms. His first effort came up a little short, getting his elbows bent at right angles, but then losing the struggle to keep his arms from being pulled straight out again. His second effort was way short, as he hadn't allowed enough time to recover. Annoyed yet calm, Walt resolved to stand there until he felt his energy level was back.

Looking down, he saw that the water had become murky. While he had no burning desire to see his stomach or legs, it was annoying not to be able to. He wiggled his fingers and toes for the next half hour, and then with a burst of concentration forced the branches far enough to hook together. This took off enough pressure to allow him to slide his wrists up and out of the narrow gaps, and once again he was free.

Then again, Walt was only free to continue slogging through the flooded forest. He waded through the water for hours, finding the level staying between his waist and his chest. The constant lapping of the water surface against his torso was an interesting sensation, yet he was annoyed that he apart from a few seconds of ineffective tree climbing couldn't bring his legs out of the water for what must be approaching twenty-four hours. He attempted to go in one direction, but it was slow going, and the constant turns forced upon him by the dense brush made the task difficult. The water darkened until it was nearly completely black, matching Walt's skin that had been exposed to so much sun the last several weeks. He drank enough water that had collected on leaves to keep him going for another day, which was a good thing since darkness fell with him still utterly lost.

Walt wound up in waist-deep water as the sun set, and since his idea had gotten him through the previous night, he selected another spot between two trees and wedged his hands in narrow gap branches. This time he made sure he could lift his hands enough to free them. However, during the course of the night, the water subsided all the way into the ground. With the added weight on them, Walt's feet slipped into gaps among the tree roots that had been hidden by the dark water, going in past the ankles. Shortly thereafter, the drying trees straightened up, stretching Walt's arms up and out to the point that the next morning he woke up upright but in a tight spread-eagle.

This time both Walt's arms and legs were numb. He felt like making a disparaging remark to Jacob, but decided to save his energy since he knew what to do from the day before. Still, it took another good hour of clenching, wiggling, and pulling to get the branches to lock again, and free one hand and then the other. Then he used his hands to move the tree roots enough to pull his feet out. With the dryer, sturdier trees, he could climb higher than before, and saw a way to higher ground. He was able to walk at a normal speed and got out within minutes. Soon he was devouring half a dozen papayas, and then an equal number of bananas. It was time for an announcement.

"There, I did it, Jacob, right? I'm getting out of here now."

When there was no answer, Walt thought, _Did I count the days right?_

"If I'm doing anything wrong, just let me know."

Having gotten his bearing, Walt headed for where he expected the boat to be, at the Pala Ferry. He had been going an hour when he realized, _Hah, I'm still naked. Been so long I haven't noticed. Guess that's like those old Aborigines on their walkabouts. But if I'm going to civilization, I'd better be decent._

The grass nearby wasn't as strong or long as that from which he made his first grass, but he fashioned something presentable. Unfortunately, the waistband was severed when it got caught on a low branch. Walt made another, but that fell apart when he crossed a stream.

_Screw this, I'm just going to make one when I get close._

Thus Walt hurried on in the raw toward the goal. However, in the afternoon many dark storm clouds approached, and this occasion it produced a lightning storm. One bolt hit a kilometer away, and Walt remembered that it was best to seek a low location. The sky was dark, but fortunately there was a ditch close ahead. As he got to the edge, Walt could tell it was about two meters deep, about as wide, and ten meters long, but it was too dark to see what was at the bottom. One more lightning bolt, this one much closer, induced Walt to lower himself in. After hanging on the edge for a second, he dropped down, feeling something crunch under his feet.

_Gross, that felt like breaking bones._

Walt huddled against a side, not wanting to know what was down there with him. The storm continued well into the night, and Walt was forced to stay there overnight. He got drenched, but that was fine, and helped washed away the bad smell. More importantly he was safe from the lightning.

The sun shone brightly the next morning. Walt woke up, happy not to be restrained in some way. He opened his eyes, and was revolted to find out who had shared his sleeping quarters. The ditch was strewn with dozens of skeletons clad in Dharma uniforms. Walt was in shock for a minute. This was a part of the island history no one had told him about. _What happened here? If these were Dharma people, then … Ben's side must have won a war?_

Walt shuddered, and then his mind cleared. _I could get something to wear from one of these corpses, but … no thanks, I'd rather be naked._ Spooked, Walt tried to climb out of the ditch. Panicking, the first three times he fell back in when the dirt walls gave way. On the fourth attempt, he was more careful, and getting better footholds and handholds, clawed his way out. He then streaked out of there, dashing into the forest before slowing down. It wouldn't do to fall into another trap.

In one more hour Walt was quite near his destination. On this occasion near the edge of the forest there were many thick, tall grass plants. Calming down, he took care to make a good quality grass skirt. It still wasn't as good as his first, but now there shouldn't be more obstacles to snag it and leave him in the nude once more. Satisfied with his attire, he crossed the tree line and saw the boat just where it should be. He jogged to the pier, and stepped into the boat. There was a full tank of gas, a radio, and food and water that would last a single person at least two days. The compass was in place, and Walt well remembered the 325 degree setting. There were charts and life jackets, everything he might need. Except … there was no key for the ignition.

"Dang it! It's not fair to come so close!"

Walt searched all over for the key. He looked under mats and cushions, and inside every compartment and container, but it was not to be found. _Maybe I can row this thing?_ There were oars, but it looked like it would be a very difficult job. Walt was considering the possibility when he heard a most unwelcome voice.

"Put your hands up, and turn around slowly."


	30. Welcome to Othersville

Walt meets some familiar faces, but they don't recognize him and he is in for some interrogation.

* * *

The lightning storm the day before had caused some minor damage to the Others' village and the surrounding area. It had fallen to Mikhail to check up on the Pala Ferry and the boat to be used in an emergency. He was clearing the trail to the dock, moving a fallen tree, when out of the corner of his eye he spotted some movement ahead and to one side. As the figure disappeared into the woods, Mikhail figured it had to be an animal. He finished pushing the fallen tree to the side, when he recollected that it was rare for wild animals to be seen in this part of the island. On the other hand, there shouldn't have been any people out here either.

Mikhail knew he had to investigate. He went in the direction the intruder had gone, and in a few minutes got to the tree line. Peeking out from behind cover, he was amazed to see a half-naked black boy with a massive mop of hair scurrying about the boat, apparently looking for something. Mikhail blinked his eyes, afraid that his one good eye may have been playing tricks on him. But the boy was still there, clad in nothing but a grass skirt, which had turned out to be a good enough camouflage that Mikhail hadn't recognized Walt as such at the first glance. _What is this? A Micronesian native washed up here? But … that's impossible._

Mikhail expected there would be a communication problem, but was again surprised when the boy shouted out a complaint in English. Something was definitely wrong with this scene. Mikhail swiftly strode up to the pier, blocking the way off.

"Put your hands up, and turn around slowly."

Walt jumped at the sound of the voice in the thick Russian accent. Remembering that he blabbed too much when he first encountered Danielle, he hesitated before saying or doing anything. _I have to get my story straight. I can pretend to be a native from some island around here, and was just trying to get back._

"And don't pretend you don't understand me; I heard you talking in English," continued Mikhail when Walt didn't respond fast enough.

With no good options, Walt did as instructed, turning around slowly and raising his hands high in the air. He gulped at the sight of the man with the eye patch. Walt had never seen Mikhail before, but this guy gave Walt the creeps. Mikhail was dressed in a rugged-looking outfit, with ample room for weapons in his light jacket pockets. Walt, of course, had nothing with which to defend himself, and would have to try to talk his way out of this.

Mikhail regarded his subject as Walt obeyed. Clearly the boy was no physical threat to the highly skilled Russian, so Mikhail took a more conciliatory tone.

"You can lower your hands. Now tell me, who are you, and how did you get to this island?"

Deciding it best to use a fake name, Walt came up with "J-John. John Reyes." Walt wracked his brain for a reasonable Pacific island. "And I came here from Vanuatu. I was rowing a canoe, and there was this sudden big storm a couple days ago, and it blew me out to sea. I washed up on this island, and was just trying to get back."

The story sounded fishy to Mikhail. He wasn't sure exactly where Vanuatu was, but it couldn't have been too close. "You're a long way from there. That must have been quite a storm. And I don't believe you are from Vanuatu; you speak too much like an American."

Walt needed to adapt his story quickly. _I could never get away with that; I don't even know what language they speak._

"I didn't say I was from Vanuatu; I meant my family was on vacation there."

"Is that so? Then if you are American, why are you dressed like that?"

"Because the idea was to experience the traditional life of the natives. This is what boys wear there."

Walt nervously fingered a blade of grass on his skirt as Mikhail considered the story. It appeared that the one-eyed man might be accepting it, when he asked,

"You were trying to steal our boat. What happened to your canoe?"

"Oh, it got destroyed on some rocks down the shore over there." Walt pointed off to the south. "But I wasn't stealing your boat; I was going to return it after I got back. But I couldn't find any keys. So … do you have them?"

Mikhail decided that this had gone far enough, and that he would have to take the child to Ben. "Sorry John, I don't have the keys on me, but I know where they are. Come with me. This island can be a dangerous place."

Mikhail walked up and put a hand around the back of Walt's neck, urging Walt forward. Walt considered running, but that would make things worse in all probability. His story would be shot, and he might get shot as well. And there was a chance this Mikhail had nothing to do with Ben and those other people Walt was desperate to get away from. Consequently Walt took a few steps forward, but then felt light-headed. Too late, he realized that Mikhail had got his thumb and middle finger around Walt's carotid arteries, and the temporary shortage of blood flowing to his brain caused Walt to crumple to the deck. Mikhail held on long enough to ease Walt's fall so he wouldn't get hurt.

Next, Mikhail pulled out his walkie-talkie to call Ben. With the cleanup around the village completed, Ben was at a book club meeting in Juliet's house, discussing "Slaughterhouse Five." Ben excused himself to take the call.

"Mikhail? I trust this is important?"

"You'll find this important. I just discovered we have a visitor trying to take our boat at the Pala Ferry."

"A visitor? That's impossible. Any entry to the Island would have been detected."

"I know, but he's right in front of me."

It was extremely hard to believe, but Mikhail would never lie to Ben about a thing like this. "Very well, describe our 'visitor'."

"He's just a kid, twelve or thirteen years old. Says his name is John Reyes. Black, probably American, and wearing only a grass skirt. Looks to be in good shape, but hasn't had a haircut in months. Claims his family was visiting Vanuatu, and that his canoe caught in the storm a couple days ago and washed up here. His canoe was destroyed, and he was just trying to get back with our boat."

Ben needed a moment to digest the tale. "Mikhail, that story is preposterous."

"That's what I thought. But what could I say? The boy's a great actor."

"So where is the boy now?"

"He's out cold right here. I pretended to take him to the boat keys and put a sleeper hold on him. What should I do with him?"

"Good work, Mikhail. Take him to the medical building. That should take you an hour, right? And make sure he doesn't see where our village is. Blindfold him; do whatever you have to."

"Right, see you there in an hour."

Mikhail searched the boat and pier for a good blindfold, but found a large sack first. He found that Walt fit inside it nicely, and then cinched the bag shut with its drawstring. Mikhail left an opening plenty large enough for Walt to breathe, but not enough for him to poke his head through in case he woke.

Ben went back to the book club meeting. "Sorry for the interruption. Storm caused a little more damage than we thought, but it's under control now." An hour later the meeting broke up, and Ben asked his most trusted associates, "Bea, Juliet, Tom, would you please come with me?"

Ben explained the situation to the other three. "Mikhail found some kid wandering about the Pala Ferry. We have no idea how that was possible. He made up a story about being carried here in a canoe by a storm from Vanuatu, and is dressed for the part. I want you to watch and listen carefully; the fact that he's here implies that our security system is not as infallible as I thought it was."

They met in the medical building around one in the afternoon. Walt hadn't fully wakened, so Ben had Mikhail take Walt out of the sack and prop him up in a large, heavy chair. Mikhail then stood outside the door, as Ben did not want Walt to see the person who brought him in when he first woke up. Juliet, Bea, and Tom took seats against a wall, while Ben retrieved a set of keys from a pocket and stood a short distance in front of Walt. Seeing that Walt was waking, Ben jangled the keys.

"Good afternoon young man. I understand you are looking for these. But before I can lend these to you …"

Ben stopped in mid-sentence as he was shocked by Walt's facial expression – one that indicated that he recognized Ben. Ben never forgot a face and was positive he had never met this wayward boy, but there was no way the child's reaction was an act. Walt sprang up, also a bit in shock. Ben continued, "Have we met before? I don't remember …"

Walt snapped. Quick as lightning, he delivered a right cross to Ben's jaw.

"What do you mean, have we met? You ruined my life!"

Stupefied at the boy's violent reaction, Ben didn't react in time and stumbled to the floor. Juliet's and Bea's jaws dropped, while Tom jumped up and raced over to grab Walt's left arm. Walt responded by twisting and then kneeing Tom in the groin, forcing him to let go. By now Juliet and Bea had gotten up, and upon hearing the commotion, Mikhail entered the room. Looking for a weapon, Walt grabbed and smashed a bottle, making threatening motions with the jagged edge.

"Please, calm down," begged Juliet.

Walt hesitated for a moment, and Mikhail made a move to tackle Walt. In the process, Walt swung the broken bottle, and cut Mikhail's arm. They both hit the ground, with Walt losing his grip on the bottle and Mikhail losing his grip on Walt. Walt bounced up quickly, and took a swing at Juliet, but the memory of her treating him nicer than the others resulted in him pulling his punch, which wound up being a minor hit on her arm. Still, she took a step back, allowing Bea room to step forward and grab his arm. Walt managed to slug Bea in the stomach. As she fell back, she grabbed at Walt's hair and tore off a large chunk, and sent him staggering. Mikhail stuck out an arm and tripped Walt, and Tom, recovering from the blow to the groin, had the presence of mind to pin Walt face-down on the floor.

"Strap him to the chair!" demanded Ben, "before he hurts anyone too severely."

Several seconds later, when Tom and Mikhail had recovered enough, they each took one of Walt's arms, and forced him into the large heavy chair he had waken upon. With them holding Walt's arms down, Ben took a couple of belt-like straps and lashed Walt's arms to the arms of the chair. As Ben was finishing, Walt kicked him painfully in the shin. Tom looked at Ben, whose nod indicated that Tom should strap Walt's lower legs to the legs of the chair as well. Juliet and Bea exchanged looks of astonishment.

As Mikhail's arm was still bleeding, Ben instructed, "Juliet, Mikhail, go to the infirmary and get that cleaned up." Juliet and Mikhail left to go to another room a few doors away. Juliet skillfully cleansed the wound and bandaged his arm. Ben motioned to Bea and Tom to sit down, while Ben rubbed his aching jaw and smarting shin. Then he addressed Walt.

"Now John, you had better explain yourself. None of us have ever seen you before, isn't that right?"

Bea and Tom nodded, while Walt seethed, straining at the straps while knowing it was a futile cause. When Walt didn't respond to the fake name he had given, Ben repeated,

"You can sit there until you answer my questions. I have plenty of time."

Walt glowered. "I told you guys, I was in a canoe from Vanuatu, and a storm brought me over here. I just want to go home."

Ben sighed. "I don't believe you. Vanuatu is two thousand kilometers from here. There's no way you could have come that far. You'd have done better to say you came from Tuvalu."

"Oh that could have been it. We visited Tuvalu too. I get those mixed up."

Ben shook his head. "That's still one thousand kilometers away. Now tell me the truth, how did you get to this island?"

"A storm blew me over here from somewhere. How else could I have gotten here?"

Ben was getting annoyed, but it would never do to lose his temper, especially in front of colleagues. He got up, went to another room, and took a device from a cabinet. The device resembled a large blood pressure cuff, black in color, a bit longer than a meter and about fifteen centimeters wide. He met Juliet and Mikhail returning from the infirmary.

"You're giving the boy a lie detector test?" queried Juliet.

"I'm sure he's lying, and I believe this will get him to answer honestly."

"So are you going to untie him from the chair?"

"Certainly not. Not until I'm convinced he's not a danger to anyone. You saw what he is capable of."

"So you're just going to wrap that around his bare chest while he's still strapped in? I don't ever remember a lie detector test done like that."

"Juliet, don't let emotions cloud your judgment. We don't know what we're dealing with here, and we have to be cautious. Besides, the detector will actually be more accurate against bare skin, detecting changes in heart beat and perspiration more readily."

They reached the room, and Ben wrapped the lie detector around Walt's chest, and tightened it so that it was a snug fit. The chair's arms were far enough apart that there was ample room between Walt's upper arms and sides for the device to fit. Ben adjusted some dials, and turned the battery-powered device on.

"I'll bet you know what this is. You lie, and a buzzer goes off. Tell the truth, the green light goes on, and this will be over with quickly."

Walt frowned. He realized he hated this Ben for things he might do in the future, and hated him for his treatment of Danielle, in particular stealing Alex away. Walt didn't want to help Ben in any way, but he might not have a choice.

Ben continued, "First, what is your name?"

It took Walt a second to remember. "John Reyes." The buzzer went off, and Ben looked at Walt disapprovingly.

"Want to try again?"

"Fine. Walt Lloyd."

The green light flashed, indicating this was the truth. Ben looked at the others in the room. "Any of you heard of Walt Lloyd?"

Juliet, Bea, Tom, and Mikhail all shook their heads. Ben thought about why Walt might use an alias, and decided Mikhail might have scared him. It wasn't important, so Ben continued.

"Why did you say I ruined your life? We've never met."

"But we did meet before … I mean … I guess it was a dream." Walt wasn't sure how he could explain it, but when the buzzer went off again, he would have to try. Otherwise he might spend the rest of his life in this chair.

"Okay, but this may be hard to believe. I first got here in a plane crash. You kidnapped me, did a lot of experiments on me, but then let me go, with my father. Then lots of bad stuff happened, and more than three years later, you show up and say I and the other passengers who got away had to come back here. Our plane was attacked by this Widmore guy, and I'm the only one who made it. I turned the donkey wheel in the middle of the Sahara and ended up in the Orchid. So there!"

The four Others seated by the wall couldn't believe the story, but were more shocked when the green light on the lie detector went on. Ben stared at Walt in amazement.

"You … came … through the portal in the Orchid? The reverse direction? I didn't know that was possible."

"Well, you went through it later and I guess you found out how."

Tom interrupted. "Wait a minute, what is this business about the Orchid?"

"I'll explain later, this is very important." Ben's mind was spinning. He had to verify these claims. "Now Walt, how old are you?"

"Fourteen. And about a month, I lost track of the days."

"And when were you born?"

"August 24, 1994."

All of the Others could see the inconsistency in the math. Ben made it clear to Walt.

"Walt, today is September 18, 2004."

* * *

An Oceanic Airlines employee finalized the departure time of Flight 815 from Sydney to Los Angeles, to take place in four days.


	31. Walt's Island Tale

As Walt reveals more from questioning, Ben and company try to digest the information and start making plans to deal with the situation.

Upon Ben's informing Walt the date on the Island was September 18, 2004, Walt replied, "Yeah, that fits with what Desmond said."

"Desmond? The man in the Swan Hatch? We found out some time ago that hatch was destroyed, and thought he perished with it. There was no trace of him, or anything else for that matter."

Walt had been more cooperative, as this version of Ben seemed like a more reasonable human being, but he wished he hadn't mentioned Desmond.

"No, he got away, and was going to come back for me, but I forgot to tell him the direction in which to come. That hatch blew up with me in it. Or imploded, I'm not sure."

"And how did he know the direction in which to sail?"

"You told my father in the deal to let us go."

The green light continued to stay on. Ben was not pleased that someone had escaped the Island and found it hard to believe that he would give away the secret heading, but was relieved that it hadn't been found again.

"It's amazing you survived that. All that remains is a giant hole. The Swan wasn't very important, but I would have thought the radiation blast would kill anyone inside it."

"Well, it did destroy everything except me in that hatch, even my clothes. That's really why I had to make these grass skirts."

"That was more than two months ago, wasn't it? How long have you been on this Island? Did you meet anyone else?"

Walt had to think. _Six weeks in the hatch, six weeks with Danielle, and six weeks on the walkabout, about._ "About four and a half months. After I got out of the hole left by the hatch, I got captured by Danielle." Walt suddenly remembered, and his anger flared up. "Why did you steal her baby? You're evil!"

Ben did not welcome this pronouncement in front of the others. "That woman is still alive? You don't know the whole story. She is insane, and has been for a long time. She killed her own husband, and everyone else in her crew. I saved that baby's life. Now you say she captured you. How did she treat you?"

Walt wasn't convinced. "You could have helped her and her crew. And for me, she treated me just fine."

The buzzer on the lie detector went off for the first time in several minutes. Ben looked at Walt disapprovingly, and Walt admitted,

"Okay, she kept me in handcuffs the whole time, about six weeks. Every night I had to sleep handcuffed hand and foot to a bed frame. Except once she left me cuffed to a tree. Eventually I escaped when a spider bit her and knocked her out."

Ben gave an expression as if to indicate "I told you so," but wouldn't speak that phrase.

"Now, what happened after you escaped from Ms. Rousseau?"

"Oh, Jacob sent me on a walkabout, for forty-one or forty-two days I guess. It just ended, I was supposed to be allowed to leave, but that guy got in the way."

Walt jerked his head toward Mikhail, but Ben was astonished once more.

"Jacob … spoke to you?"

"Yes, sort of. You told me to seek his help. Sometimes he's in the form of other people, and sometimes this black smoke. He helps me, but only when he thinks I need it. And his way of helping is really strange at times."

"Jacob … helps you? But he doesn't think you need help now?"

"I guess he thinks it isn't absolutely necessary. You don't want to make him angry."

Ben was thinking, _Who is this boy? He must be very special. This is a sign; something interesting is going to happen soon. But I can't let my guard down._ "One more thing – when was this plane crash you spoke of?"

"September 22, 2004."

Ben frowned. "Just four days from now? The situation may be quite urgent. The implications are … I have to think about this." _Will the plane crash again? Does it have to? Would that make two copies of several people?_

Ben had a lot to think about, and wanted to wrap up the questioning.

"So, is there anything else?"

"I don't think so … wait, you told me to find someone. His name is … Richard. You said he would help me set things right, or something like that. Except I went to the wrong time, so I'm not sure."

Yet another surprise from Walt for Ben. _I have to find out what Richard knows about this. _"I told you about Richard … but in the future? Richard isn't here now; I will contact him. If anyone can make sense of this it is he. But with your going through the portal and possible radiation exposure from the Swan, I want you to have a complete physical examination immediately."

Ben pulled out his walkie-talkie to make a call the doctor.

"Ethan, I've got a patient I need you to give a complete physical."

Ethan was finishing up a house call at the far end of the village, treating a few scrape victims.

"Ben? Just about done here. Who is it?"

"We've got a visitor, a fourteen-year-old boy who's been through a lot. I'll explain when you get here."

"Visitor? Sounds like you do need to explain. I'll be there in twenty, twenty-five minutes."

Walt groaned. "Ethan? Does it have to be Ethan?"

Ben looked puzzled. "Yes, Ethan Rom, he's a highly skilled surgeon and excellent general practitioner. Keeps everyone here in tip-top condition. Why, did you run into him when you were here before?"

"Uh, yeah, he was a real nice guy."

The lie detector buzzer sounded.

"Wait here, we have to discuss some things." Ben motioned for the others to go outside, and he followed, closing the door behind them. Ben then called Richard on the walkie-talkie.

"Richard? We've had a surprising development here. First, is the name Walt Lloyd familiar to you?"

Richard had been meditating at the Temple. "No, never heard of him. What is this surprising development?"

"We have a visitor, a fourteen-year old boy born ten years ago in the next room here, in medical, by that name."

"Ben, did I hear you right? You know it's impossible for us to have a visitor; he would have been picked up by the detectors along the entry angle."

"True, if he had come that way. But he claims he came to us via the Orchid, from four years in the future."

Richard had a hard time believing his ears.

"Are you sure about that? That's … rather incredible."

"He wasn't giving us straight answers, so I strapped a lie detector on him, and it verifies his claim. He says he was here, that is, in his past but our future. His airplane crashed, or will crash four days from now, and he met some of us, though not you. He apparently got off, and said that in the future I told him to ask for you. Where are you now?"

"I'm at the Temple. I can be in the Village come morning. You're right, this sounds most interesting. See you tomorrow."

Finished with the call to Richard, Ben addressed the group standing by.

"The Orchid is the site of an amazing wonder of nature, an extremely powerful energy source. Many years ago some civilization constructed a donkey wheel deep within the Earth in order to harness this energy. When this wheel is turned, this Island can be moved through time and space."

There was a look of stunned silence.

"This procedure is not to be taken lightly. The wheel should only be used in cases of dire emergency, as a last resort to safeguard the Island. Up to now I thought that Richard and I were the only two people alive aware of its existence, but that must have changed, or will change in the near future."

Bea spoke up. "Excuse me, but isn't time travel impossible? Traveling back in time would lead to all sorts of contradictions when the traveler changes something in the past."

"Good observation. There is a theory that states that the past cannot be changed. If the traveler does something to try to change history, he or she is bound to fail. A corollary, explained to me by Eloise Hawking, states that small perturbations might be made, but the universe will correct events so that they eventually play out the way to which they are intended. Otherwise multiple time lines would be created, and that might destroy the fabric of the universe.

There is one more theory, which says that a few very special individuals may indeed have the power to alter the past and change history. There is no definitive evidence of that, but we have to keep open minds about this."

"So about this plane crash the child spoke of … do we just let it happen?"

"While we can't be sure, that appears to be the most likely course we should take. But there is a small chance that it wasn't supposed to take place, or happen in a different manner, and we should take action. I believe Richard will be quite helpful on this matter. In any case we have to keep the boy here. If he actually did escape and take our boat to civilization, the location of the Island would be revealed and all would be lost.

"So what should we do now?"

"We need all the information we can get from our guest. I think we've had enough direct interrogation for now. If it becomes absolutely necessary we can use the truth serum, but I'd rather not be so antagonistic.

For some reason this boy was not as angry with Juliet as with the rest of us. Did you notice how he let up when he took a swing at her?"

"Yes, I noticed," remarked Bea, who rubbed her stomach where Walt had hit her, and looked at Juliet with a tinge of jealously.

"Same here," added Tom. "That kid looked at me with pure hatred. Like my future self did something he really didn't like, though I can't imagine what that might be."

Ben continued, "So I think it best for Juliet to talk to Walt, and gain his confidence. She can play the role of the good cop, and sympathize with him. He may reveal information that we wouldn't think to ask for. But it would be more believable to him if there was some reason for Juliet to talk to him."

In a second Juliet had an answer. "I've got it – I can give Walt a haircut. His hair is ridiculously long, and looks bad with that hunk torn out from one side. We can say it will make his physical exam easier without hair falling in his eyes and covering his ears."

Ben's face brightened. "Juliet, that's an excellent idea. And long hair samples could reveal what he has experienced in the months he has been on our Island. Things such as what he ate, or if he's been exposed to radiation."

"Fine. And we should untie him and give him something decent to wear. To build trust and so on."

Bea piped in, "I think I can get an old shirt and shorts in his size. The kind we used to wear when we wanted to appear living primitively."

"All right," agreed Ben, "as long as we're sure he won't try to attack any of us again. He's had enough time to settle down, and should realize another attack is hopeless."

Left alone in the room, Walt squirmed in the chair. He did not want to be examined by Ethan, and his thoughts turned to escape again. The room had a window, but if he did get out, what then? Then he spotted the keys on the floor – the keys to the boat that Ben dropped and forgot about when Walt hit him. Excited, Walt strained again at the straps, but was forced to suffer the indignity of remaining fixed in place. To add injury to insult, the snugly fitting lie detector dug annoyingly into his chest and back due to his forced heavy breathing, and there was nothing he could do about that until his respiration slowed down.

After a minute, Walt was more comfortable again. _I need something to cut these straps._ _Maybe I can smash another bottle, if I can reach one._ Walt tried scooting the chair across the room, but his feet didn't even touch the floor. He tried throwing his weight to one side, and the chair did move a few millimeters. He tried harder, and almost tipped the chair over. _That would have been a disaster._ He made more controlled jerks, aiming toward a counter, when the door opened and Ben walked in, followed by Juliet with a scissors and comb, then Bea with an old plain shirt and pair of shorts, and then Tom and Mikhail. Walt sat still, and moved his hands a little to show how helpless he was.

Ben looked disapprovingly at Walt. "You weren't trying to escape, were you?"

"No, how could I?"

Walt, having momentarily forgotten about the lie detector, jumped when the buzzer went off.

Ben shook his head. "We can't have that Walt. Now, we think it's a good idea for you to have a haircut while we wait for the doctor. Get that hair out of your eyes and ears. So we'll unstrap you now, you can put on these clothes, and you promise you won't try to attack us again, all right?"

Walt had seen the scissors, and was thinking about getting hold of them, and using them to fend off the Others, grab the keys, and make his escape. He ought to have something of a head start, and now no one would probably be at the ferry. He hadn't thought about the sonic fence, and then realized he had to answer Ben.

"No, I won't attack you again."

The lie detector betrayed Walt's thoughts, and buzzed once more. Ben had to adjust his strategy. _The more of a bad cop I am, the more effective Juliet will be as a good cop._

"Well, if that's the case, we'd better leave the straps on. I see no reason why you can't have your hair cut as you are. Gentlemen, please move our guest in front of that mirror there so Juliet can work."

Bea placed a sheet on the floor to catch the hair, while Tom and Mikhail carried the chair and Walt to a position on the sheet in front of a large mirror. Unbeknownst to Walt this was a one-way mirror, and he would be plainly visible to anyone on the other side. Any conversation would also be picked up by a hidden microphone.

"I think we don't need this anymore." Ben unwrapped the lie detector from Walt and carried it away. He started to leave the room, and Juliet protested.

"Ben, Walt can't put on the clothes without being unstrapped, at least for a moment."

Ben turned, with an unsympathetic look on his face.

"So? What's important is that he doesn't make a grab for your scissors and hurt someone. He needs to learn that violence is not tolerated here."

Ben, Bea, Tom, and Mikhail left the room, and entered the neighboring room with the window side of the one-may mirror looking in. Walt was left staring at himself, but it was almost like staring at a stranger. He hadn't seen a proper mirror since he was in the Swan Hatch, and the boy looking back at him appeared hardened by the elements. His lean body was covered by very dark skin that contrasted handsomely and naturally with the bright green blades of long grass about his lower torso, yet he was clearly annoyed that the muscles on display were not up to the task of breaking free from the chair. This boy also had a mass of wild hair that was rather unsightly due to the large chunk ripped out a few minutes ago by Bea in the fight. Fortunately this was about to be corrected, as Walt was startled out of his reverie by Juliet.


	32. Juliet's Haircutting Salon

Juliet tries to get information from Walt while giving him a much-needed haircut.

"So, young man, what will it be today?" Juliet would do her best in the role of haircutter to get more information. Not only information for Ben, but she wanted to learn more about a possible way off the Island herself. The story about some kind of passageway leading from the Orchid intrigued her, and she was getting desperate to go home and see her sister Rachel and nephew Julian. The way things had been going, Ben was not going to let Juliet leave while fertility problems on the Island remained. Knowing that Ben was listening, Juliet would have to be careful in what she said, and not give any indication that she was looking for a new way off the Island.

Walt wasn't in the mood for a haircut but didn't have much choice. Unenthusiastically he replied, "Guess you can even it out all around. Leave it a couple centimeters long, please." Walt preferred the metric system as those had been used exclusively in his formative years.

"Coming right up, then." Juliet wanted to be cheerful, but seeing Walt's glum face in the mirror made it difficult. Of course Walt had good reason to be glum. Juliet began snipping away, careful to save some long strands for chemical analysis. After a couple minutes she had to break the silence.

"I'm sorry you have to be tied in that chair like that. But you do understand that you can't go around attacking people like you did, especially those who hadn't done anything to you."

Walt sighed. "Don't worry about that; I've been through a lot worse than this. I know I kind of lost it when I saw Ben there. But he was awful to me before – or will be, this time travel stuff is confusing. And Ms. Klugh, and that Tom guy … ugh. But I'm sorry I hit you. You were nicer to me."

Juliet perked up when she heard Walt's of opinion of herself, whether it was in the past or the future. She continued cutting Walt's hair more enthusiastically. "I wasn't hurt at all. But you're quite some fighter. How did you get to be so good?" _Try some compliments to loosen him up._

"Really? Maybe being on the island for months helped, but I think I got them mostly by surprise."

"Well, it still was impressive. Also, it's good to hear that you think I was nice. So … what did I do that was different from the others?"

"Those people kept wanting to do experiments on me. Like to see if I could sense things, or make things happen. And they locked me in that Room 23 several times. But you tried to make sure they didn't overdo it, and brought me food."

Juliet was taken aback. "They put you in Room 23? That's … rather extreme. But I suppose if Ben thought it best it could happen. What happened in there?"

Walt wasn't comfortable talking about it. "Do we have to talk about that? They made watch and listen to awful stuff, and I couldn't get away because I was strapped to a chair, a lot like this. Well, they did let me wear my normal clothes for that."

Walt stopped, not wanting to talk about that any more. Juliet tried a different tack to cheer Walt up.

"Hey, you look good in that grass skirt. Very resourceful of you to make that, and you're growing up to be a fine handsome young man."

_If I grow up_ thought Walt. "Ha. All the girls say I look good in this."

"All the girls? What other girls did you meet on the Island?"

"Alex and Emma, oh, they weren't real, they were visions that Jacob got me to see, I think."

This was interesting to Juliet. _Maybe there is something special about this boy._ "You mean Alex Linus? And I don't believe we have an Emma here."

"Yes, Alex Linus. I barely saw her before, but she seemed like a nice girl. And Emma, and her brother Zack, were also on the plane that crashed. They're about my age, Zack a little younger."

"That's fascinating. So when did you see these … visions?"

Juliet had cut the hair over Walt's forehead and top of his head, and Walt was liking the emergence of his familiar appearance.

"Actually, Alex came up to me when Danielle had left me handcuffed to a tree for hours. She acted like a big sister and helped me get through that ordeal, and told me what to do. Emma and Zack came a few weeks later, when I was stuck in quicksand when Danielle made me test another of her stupid traps. Those two mostly teased me, but did talk with me quite a while until Danielle got back."

Juliet noticed that Walt now seemed eager to talk about his adventures, and she would encourage him to continue.

"Those are some stories," Juliet remarked. "The Alex I know would go out of her way to help a younger sibling, if she had one. But those were probably hallucinations. When you're alone for a long time, especially with the heat we have here, those are fairly common."

"I thought they might be imaginary, but they weren't just my imagination. They had some solid substance to them."

"How can be sure of that?"

Walt hesitated, and then confided, figuring Juliet was the best person around to tell anything to. "Because they touched me, and I felt it for real. I told Alex she wasn't real, and she twisted my nipples and tickled me. And she explained that was because I thought that's what a big sister would do to a tied-up and shirtless little brother. And Zack pushed me deeper into the quicksand, and Emma tickled me later to help me pull myself out later. They said something about nanobots, like it was some form Jacob took. Jacob was supposed to explain all this, but hasn't gotten around to it yet."

Walt suddenly realized he was a similar vulnerable position.

"You wouldn't do that stuff to me, would you?"

He looked at Juliet with pleading eyes in the mirror. Juliet calculated a response to win Walt over.

"I'll have you know I'm not a complete pushover. I just might tickle you, but only when you're not expecting it."

Walt laughed, to Juliet's delight. He squirmed in the chair, and asked, "Would you really? I had forgotten how ticklish my bare skin is until they … " Walt braced himself, but Juliet continued with the haircut. By now she had cut the sides of Walt's head neatly, and Walt could see his ears in the mirror reflection for the first time in weeks. Juliet continued,

"So did you see anyone else on your adventures?"

"Oh yes, several people who were on the plane, and Karl. I saw him when I was stuck in the ground after I sank real deep in the mud after getting out of Danielle's net trap. That was soon after the Swan Hatch blew up."

"Karl? What did he do?"

"Not much. He explained why Desmond couldn't find the island again, but left me to get out on my own. It took forever, but I made it. Soon after that I fell into another rope trap and that's when Danielle captured me. I freaked her out when I knew her name."

"So you met Danielle before, after your plane crashed?"

"Yeah, she was pretty crazy then too. But since I recognized her she was scared of me, and that's why she had me in handcuffs all the time. I had to sleep with my hands and feet cuffed to a bed frame every night. And always in just another grass skirt like this, so I wouldn't be able to carry a concealed weapon. Also because it seemed like she could tell if I was lying by my heartbeat. That was a lot worse than being tied to this chair."

Juliet shook her head at the remarkable tale. "You poor thing. You're quite a trooper."

Walt beamed. "I guess so."

Juliet was working on the back of Walt's head, almost finished. "It seems odd that Alex was so helpful to you while Karl wasn't. That doesn't sound like the Karl I know."

"Well the story I got later, from Alex, is that Karl figured it would be more rewarding for me if I got out of that mess on my own. And I have to admit, they were right. I hope this doesn't sound weird, but sometimes it was exciting and fun to escape from being tied up or stuck or something. Especially when it's a challenge, even if it takes hours. At least when I have a chance, not with handcuffs with no key, but from ropes or vines. I got tied up in vines a few times, probably by Jacob."

_Jacob helps him, but tied him up on occasion? _Juliet reflected._ This does sound weird, but on this island stranger things have happened._

"Not at all, that's not weird; there are escape artists you know. Sounds like you're a good one. I can see that you didn't have much chance for fun recently. But the situations you were in sound dangerous."

"Yeah, you're right, but maybe Jacob was protecting me? It's hard to tell. And … could you put that scissors in my hand when you're done? I want to see if I can cut a strap with it and escape this chair."

_Has he been plotting an escape attempt, or did I put the idea in his head? I have to look good for Ben._ "Well Walt, I … tickle tickle tickle!" Juliet dropped the scissors and comb on the floor and tickled Walt's sides from behind him. Walt, taken completely by surprise, squealed in laughter and bounced around all he could in the chair.

"HA HA HA … I can take it … aaaahhh ha … stop … okay, you got me good."

Juliet was laughing as she stopped. "I warned you I wasn't a pushover. And I'm sure Ben wouldn't appreciate that." Juliet also wanted to convey the impression that she wouldn't let Walt walk all over her.

Walt settled down. "Hey, it was worth a try. It's not like I got much to lose."

"All right. We're almost done. You think you can hold still?" Juliet picked up the scissors and comb.

Walt got sarcastic. "I think I can manage. I never had to be tied to a chair to stay still for a hair cut before."

Juliet continued kidding around.

"Well, I never cut the hair of anyone tied to a chair before, but in your case it might be a good idea. This is working very well so far, right?"

Walt chortled as he looked in the mirror. "I guess so. I look real good, don't I?"

"You better believe it. Now can you bend your neck forward so I can get the last of the hair back here?"

"Sure … oww!"

"What's wrong?" Juliet was alarmed.

"Nothing, I'm all right."

Juliet made a few snips, but when Walt groaned a little again, repeated, "Are you sure? I think you hurt something."

"Oh, I just twisted my neck a little during the fight. I'll be all right."

"We need you in good shape. Let me try this. Tell me if it feels better."

Juliet set down the scissors and gently rubbed the back of Walt's neck. After a few seconds Walt let out a contented "Aaaaah."

Juliet made circular motions with her hands, working her way out and massaging Walt's shoulders. "It can be hard on your muscles being tied for so long. Your shoulders are very tense. Of course that's understandable, but how does this feel?"

"I've been tied a lot longer than this; I can take this." But Walt was getting a shoulder rub whether he wanted one or not. "Yeah, that does feel – ehh – good."

Walt winced a little when Juliet's fingers skipped and caught a bit of skin on his shoulder.

"Sorry about that, but you're hurt more than you're letting on. I know you're brave, but … let me get something that will help. Stay right there."

Juliet hurriedly exited the room, scooping up some of the long hair strands on the way. As she went to a supply room, Ben intercepted her.

"Juliet, you're fantastic. That's far more information than I imagined could be obtained, and in such a short time. But can you find out what he thinks we did to him in Room 23? And anything else he before he returned to our Island?"

Such high praise from Ben was not common. Juliet put the hair strands on a sheet of blank paper.

"I have an idea," replied Juliet. "I just need some rubbing alcohol solution … here it is."

Ben guessed what Juliet had in mind. "Very well. Keep entertaining our guest until you think he's told you all he can. We can begin the analysis of the hair samples. Then we'll have Ethan look at him. I wonder why Walt doesn't like him. Keep up the great work."

For a few minutes Walt was left to look at his reflection. The boy looking back at him was in much better spirits than fifteen minutes before. His face was warmer, even to the point of a slight smile despite being strapped to the chair. Then Juliet came back, and carefully dripped some of the rubbing alcohol solution onto Walt's shoulders. She smoothed it into his shoulders and the back of his neck.

"Try to relax, Walt, so your muscles will receive the benefit of this rubbing alcohol."

"Okay." It wasn't easy at first, but as Juliet worked the soothing solution in Walt began to relax.

"Now Walt, you think you can talk about Room 23 now?"

Juliet stopped the shoulder rub for a second, and then continued.

"Do we have to? Lots of bad stuff happened there."

"Then if we did something wrong, we have to know what it was so it doesn't happen again."

The logic made sense to Walt as his eyes glazed over. This was the best sensation he had in ages. His speech was mildly slurred, but comprehensible.

"All right. You guys did tests on me. I might have some ability to sense things, or make things happen. Like animals might run toward me, or this time I wanted it to stop raining so we could look for my dog, and it stopped right away. But they found out these things only happen when I'm upset. So they strapped me to a chair, and made me watch horrible images, and listen to loud noises. I'd try to get out, but couldn't, and then sometimes things happened. Like birds crashing into the wall."

Juliet didn't like the sound of that. "Are you sure? Who are these people you are talking about?"

Walt spoke almost as in a trance. "You people – Ben, and Klugh, and Tom, and this other guy – Pickett, that's it, Danny I think, was the worst. He would grab me and force me into that room, and then Klugh would ask all these questions."

"That doesn't sound like them. But … how did you get here in the first place?"

Walt tensed up. "I was kidnapped off a raft! My dad Michael was trying to get us off this island after we had been stranded about six weeks. Tom and some other guys came on a boat and shot at us. They shot Sawyer, but somehow he and Jin and Dad got back to the island. But Ben ordered everything. That guy is pure evil!"

Juliet knew that Ben had a dark side, but this seemed too extreme. She splashed some more rubbing alcohol over Walt, and attempted to make things better.

"But the Ben here hasn't done any of these things. You shouldn't be mad at him."

Walt relaxed some as he considered this. Also, the massage felt so good that he didn't want to antagonize Juliet.

"Maybe. But the Ben I knew destroyed my Dad's and my life. Ben got captured by us, and Ms. Klugh made a deal to trade him for me. But Dad killed two women to free Ben, and had to bring more passengers as hostages. It was horrible, seeing Jack, Kate, Sawyer, and Hurley tied up on the dock when Dad and me left on that boat. And then he couldn't take the guilt. Said I had to live under a fake name with my grandmother, his mother. He went away, and he's dead now."

"I'm so sorry." Juliet was shaken at the story. _Could Ben really be that cruel? He can be obsessed with protecting the Island, but … that's really overdoing it._ "Enough of that. Can you tell me how you came back to be on this island?"

Walt hesitated, and Juliet poured on some more rubbing alcohol. Her hands were shaking now, and some of it dribbled down Walt's chest, where there was still a small impression left over from the lie detector. Juliet worked the alcohol into Walt's skin, and he promptly trembled, let out a deep breath and resumed his narrative.

"I had dreams saying I had to come back, along with the other passengers who got away. I saw Dad, and Shannon, and Mr. Locke visited, and then Sayid flew me to Los Angeles. Ben was there, and explained how everything had gone bad since we left. We flew to the Island, which had moved to the Indian Ocean after Ben and then Mr. Locke had gone through, but this Mr. Widmore's freighter was there, and chased us to Africa. They shot our plane down, but I got away dressed like a Chadian native. They had better skirts, like made of leather."

Walt had to pause for breath. Juliet continued the rubdown, now including Walt's upper arms. "I'm sure you looked great in that, too."

"I guess so. Ben had given me directions to the portal, and I eventually got there, and turned the donkey wheel after I almost froze to death. I wound up in the Orchid, and saw a parachute drop. I went over there and met Desmond, so I stayed with him a while. He had to push this button every 108 minutes. After a while we decided that he should take his sailboat to get off the island and bring help for me, as I couldn't sail his boat and someone had to push the button. But he didn't come back, and I couldn't keep it up."

"So that's when the Swan Hatch blew up?"

"Yeah. I thought I was dead at first, waking up naked in a giant hole. It took hours to get out, and then I got caught in one of Danielle's net traps. It took a day to get out of that, and that because it rained. Then I told you about seeing Karl, and getting captured by Danielle, but I did make my first grass skirt before then fortunately."

"That's … an amazing story. And then you already explained your time with Danielle. But you escaped … how?"

"A spider bit her. The same kind that bit me when I was handcuffed to the tree. Alex explained it. Danielle tried to stop me by hogtying me with handcuffs and throwing a key away before she passed out, but I managed to find it and free myself."

"I said you'd be a good escape artist. But after that … you said Jacob sent you on a walkabout?"

"Yeah, it was strange. I complained to Jacob, and then the black smoke came and grabbed me, and left me hanging upside down from a tree, with my hands tied behind my back. He ordered me to go on a walkabout for forty days, like in the real old days. I was able to get my feet loose, but it took hours to find something I could cut my hands free with. That's what I meant when I said I've been tied a lot longer than this, so I can take it. Then I've been all over the island alone the last six weeks."

Juliet stopped the massage, and snipped off the last few pieces of hair at the back of Walt's neck to complete the haircut. She playfully scratched his head, and chuckled. "That must have been some sight, you running around in that grass skirt all alone for so long."

"Oh no, I lost the first skirt looking for the handcuff key while escaping from Danielle, when a bird flew at my face, and the Aborigine was naked in the vision of the walkabout I had, so … uh … forget it. Doesn't matter when you're alone."

Juliet shook her head at this latest image, and noticed it had been half an hour, so Ethan should have arrived. "You've been terrific Walt. Now it's time for your doctor appointment with Ethan."

Walt groaned. "Does it have to be him?"

Juliet looked puzzled. "Why, did you run into him also in that other , uh, timeline?

"Yes. He pretended to be on our plane, and killed _Scott or Steve _Scott, and kidnapped Claire when she was very pregnant, and tried to hang Charlie. He was as bad as Ben."

Juliet was shocked. "Our Ethan would never do that."

"Do you have more than one Ethan?"

"No, but … I'm sure it will be all right. None of the stuff that happened to your Ethan has happened to our Ethan yet … if it ever will. So get up and come to his office."

Walt gave Juliet a funny look in the mirror. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Juliet laughed. "I guess I forgot you aren't the world's greatest escape artist yet." She then unbuckled the strap around Walt's left wrist, loosened it a couple notches, and buckled it again, and smiled.

"That should be enough for a talented guy like you to free yourself. Have fun."

Walt moved his left arm a little. "Couldn't you have loosened my right hand? I'm right-handed."

"I know; that's the hand you smashed the bottle with in the fight. I wanted to make it more of a challenge."

_She's sharp. _Walt struggled a little, and then realized, "Why should I escape if I'm only going to have to see Ethan?"

Juliet stepped in front of Walt. "Because, if you're not free in five minutes, the tickle monster will come."

She couldn't resist tickling Walt's defenseless stomach. Walt squealed in laughter and lurched, and saw his left hand come a little loose. Juliet left the room, and met up with Ben and the others. Ben felt obliged to explain.

"Juliet, that was excellent. The way you talked and played with him made him feel comfortable sharing about anything with you, and that should be very useful.

Now we can't know all those things the boy said will happen. He believes they will happen, but … we can't be sure without more information. _But it is true that I would do absolutely anything to protect the Island._ You can go on about your business; Tom can stay here to make sure our guest doesn't try to leave again."

Juliet returned to her house, thinking about what Walt had told her. _I should have asked more about Alex and Danielle. Alex wants to get away from here with Karl; working together we might pull it off._

Ben was fascinated with Walt's tale, and the potential of power if much of what was said proved true. Having heard Danny's name mentioned, Ben called him on a walkie-talkie. "Danny? Could you come over here now, and make sure you have your taser?"

Danny was at his house, and promptly replied, "Sure. Is there trouble?"

"I expect not, this is mainly for show. I have an unusual visitor to tell you about."

Walt jostled his left arm back and forth, clenched and unclenched his wrist, and in two minutes got his fist through one loop of the strap, which had been wound around his forearm four times. He didn't want to admit it, but Juliet was right and it was fun. With more maneuvering he got his fist out from a second loop, and paused to look at the bound boy in mirror. _What am I doing? If I get out of this fast enough I can escape and not have to see Ethan. The boat keys are still on the floor._

With adrenalin pumping at full speed, Walt worked his left hand through the third, and then the last loop of the strap. He quickly used that hand to unbuckle the strap on his right wrist. He had to rub his wrists for a few seconds, and then used both hands to unbuckle his feet. However, Ben had been watching through the one-way mirror, and stepped into the room just as Walt freed both feet in just under Juliet's five minute time limit.

"Glad to see you up, Walt. It's time for your doctor appointment."


	33. Circus Exhibit

Walt gets examined by Ethan and spends some quality time with Bea, while the Oceanic passengers get an update.

* * *

The survivors of Oceanic 815, including the Oceanic Six, less Aaron, and those left behind on the Island but swept up by Widmore's crew, had been floating around insensate for another indeterminate length of time, when there was a sudden burst of white light. Darkness came a second later, but Sawyer had the wherewithal to demand,

"Hey what was that?"

"Quiet," insisted Ben. "Jacob has something to show us. The white light could be good news."

There was no more noise as the smoke whirled around and formed another image, this one of Walt standing on the trap that would trigger the spiked ball when he stepped off. Hurley wailed, "Oh no, watch out Walt. You gotta be spry, sprier than me for sure."

Of course the image couldn't respond to Hurley. A few seconds later the group could see Walt diving out of the way of the spiked ball, but tumbling over the edge of the cliff and hanging onto the tree root. It was Jack's turn. "That's reminiscent of me falling off a cliff, but Locke was there to pull me up. But there's no one there for Walt, and how can he climb that rock face?"

"Have faith," answered Ben. "He has proven very resourceful so far. And it certainly looks like Sayid's theory is correct: Walt is having to experience something in common with each of the adult Oceanic Six members."

"He hasn't experienced anything that I have as far as I can tell," remarked Sun.

"Be patient, there is still time."

Then there were many audible gasps as Walt dropped from the root, into a whirlpool of black smoke. Kate choked. "What happened? Does that mean …?"

"We have to wait to see what it means," answered Ben. "Do not jump to conclusions."

If the former passengers were corporeal they would have been holding their breath. After another untold number of anxious moments, the smoke revealed another scene, this one of Walt in the ditch with the dead bodies.

"That's excellent!" exclaimed Ben.

"Because it proves Walt is still alive?" asked Kate.

"Not just that, but that's the ditch John Locke spent some time in, … after I shot him."

"Is that the place where Baldy saw Taller Ghost Walt?" queried Sawyer.

"Yes, but that was probably a manifestation manufactured by Jacob. The real Walt was in New York at the time."

The smoke collapsed once more, and reassembled to form an image of Walt being stuffed in the sack by Mikhail, though the latter's features was obscured. Sun exclaimed, "A sack! Like when I was abducted, by Charlie, and … "

"I know, it was my plan to knock Locke down a peg, and it was stupid," confessed Sawyer. "Sorry."

"That looked like the docks, like Walt was trying to leave the Island," noted Hurley. "At least he finally got something to wear, he's sure had problems."

"Never mind that, all those things are unimportant now," stated Ben. There was another flash of while light, and then amorphous darkness. "What's important is that Walt had completed his mission."

"So you think I was right?" asked Sayid.

"I didn't see anything Walt did that I experienced." Sawyer's voice was almost complaining.

"You weren't one of the Oceanic Six, so I don't believe you count for this," answered Ben.

"Fine, whatever. So what do we do now?"

"Be ready for instructions. I think they will be coming soon."

* * *

Ben had briefed Danny on the situation. As Ben prodded Walt into the hall, Walt shuddered when he saw Danny. Ben explained, "Walt, this is Mr. Pickett. He's here to make sure you cooperate. Now, this physical will go much easier if you do, but if you don't, he will stun you with that taser, and we'll have to strap you down to the examination table. You know what a taser is? Will you behave?"

Walt frowned, and resignedly replied, "Yeah, I know what that is, and I'll behave." _There's no way out of this. Just get it over with as fast as possible._

They walked into Ethan's office. Walt cringed upon seeing the doctor, and wished he could have been examined by Jack, or even Juliet. Ethan was surprised to see his patient walk in in nothing but a grass skirt, and greeted him with,

"Young man, you know you didn't have to disrobe before coming into the office."

Walt wanted to say something, but hesitated with the thought of the taser looming in his mind. Instead, Ben explained, "This is how we found him a couple hours ago. Beatrice found some old clothes that should fit, but Walt here got tied up with something else until just now, and we thought we could save some time by coming here directly."

"Why, how thoughtful of you," commented Ethan. Facing Walt, "I guess we can skip the part you stripping to your underwear. Now let's go into the inner office. You can hop up on this table and hold your arm like this while I take your blood pressure."

Walt found it best not to say anything, and got up on the table as instructed. Ben left, and Danny remained in the outer doorway on guard. Walt remembered Ethan as being very strong, and put aside thoughts of escaping for the duration of the exam, which would turn out to be rather lengthy.

Ethan took Walt's blood pressure on each arm, and then pulses on his wrists and ankles. Walt resented Ethan touching him as often as he had to, but resolved not to let his feelings show. The doctor tested the patient's reflexes, and found them excellent. Ethan explained everything as he went along in a professional manner, but Walt wasn't really listening. Ethan examined Walt's eyes, ears, nose, and mouth, and finally got Walt to say something, even if it was only "Aaah."

There was the cold stethoscope used on Walt's chest and back to listen to his heart, several deep breaths, and general prodding of his body to make sure there were no unusual lumps. Walt had to lie still for an electrocardiogram and an electroencephalogram, enduring several sticky sensors placed on his body.

When Ethan tested Walt for body fat, he found a remarkably low percentage. "What have you been eating?"

Walt had to answer, "Pretty much fruit and water the past six weeks. Some boar before that."

Walt did well on the treadmill, exhibiting an impressive lung capacity. He was weighed and measured, like a boxer. Then it was time for a blood sample to be taken. Walt had to admit Ethan was acting professionally and let him prick his finger.

"There, that wasn't so bad now, was it?"

"No, I guess not."

"You're a brave young man. And I can tell you've been getting plenty of exercise with those lungs of yours. But why have you been so quiet?"

"Yeah, I've been outside a lot, walking around. I guess I just don't like going to the doctor."

"Well, it's almost over, and you appear to be in great shape. Now I need you to go in that room and fill this paper cup about half way, okay?"

Walt sighed, and then realized, _A real bathroom! _He went inside, marveling at a real toilet, sink, running water, and soap. He got a good look at himself in the mirror and decided he was indeed in good shape. Then he did as instructed and returned with the cup.

"Good, now you can go outside and get dressed. Can you tell Mr. Linus to come see me?"

"Sure." Walt walked into and through the outer office past Danny, and saw Ben pacing the hallway. "All done, and Dr. Ethan wants to see you. He said I'm in great shape."

"Good. Now go into that room we were in before, where you got your haircut, and Bea will bring you your clothes."

"Okay."

Walt went into the room as he heard Ben call Bea on the walkie-talkie, "Bea, Ethan is done with Walt's exam. Could you bring him his clothes to the room we were in before?"

Suddenly Walt spotted the keys to the boat still on the floor, and realized he was alone in the room. Peeking into the hallway, Danny and Ben were nowhere to be seen, presumably talking to Ethan in his office. _They forgot about me. I can escape now!_ Walt picked up the keys, looked out the window, and saw nobody outside. He smoothly jumped out, and crept alongside the building. He crouched down at the corner, and again upon seeing no one made a dash toward the west. One second later, he tripped, his legs having been wrapped by the cords of a bola, a throwing weapon with three heavy balls attached to cords knotted to each other. _Dang it! Ben must have predicted I'd try to escape._

The expert thrower was Tom, who had been hiding behind a tree twenty meters away. Feverishly Walt worked at unwinding the cords from his lower legs, but just as he freed himself, Tom and Danny were upon him, with Danny still wielding his taser.

"Freeze," ordered Danny, "and hold your hands out."

Walt realized that if he didn't obey, he would be painfully stunned, and tied up anyway. Furthermore, he was being given an opportunity to have his hands tied in front of him, which was bound to be more comfortable than any of his other options. Therefore he extended his hands toward Tom, but had the presence of mind to tense his wrist muscles while Tom tied his hands together. Any bit of slack had to help. Walt looked sadly at the keys that he had dropped as he fell to the ground, and watched Danny pick them up.

"On your feet, and march."

Walt was practically jerked to his feet by Tom pulling on the rope, as if leading Walt on a short leash, about half a meter long. The trio walked past some buildings and into the forest.

"Where are you taking me?" Walt couldn't keep from asking.

"Good question," smirked Tom. "Let's see, you're guilty of attempted grand larceny, assault, perjury, and attempted flight just now. What do you think, Danny?"

"Only place for someone like that is jail."

Soon they came into view of a cage, about two meters cube. It had metal bars all around the sides and top, while the bottom corners were anchored into concrete set into the ground. Walt rolled his eyes, understanding that this is where he would probably be spending the night. _Big deal. This is a lot better than last night, which I spent in that ditch with all those dead bodies. And it's not all that different from sleeping in those banyan trees. And I bet I can untie my hands if these two jerks don't._

They reached the cage, and Tom opened a heavy padlock with a key he was carrying. He then pushed Walt inside, and to Walt's surprise Tom and Danny followed Walt in. Then in a coordinated effort Tom picked Walt up around the armpits, while Danny reached up and tied the loose end of the rope around a bar across the top of the cage.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Walt protested.

"I thought this kid was supposed to be smart," said Danny to Tom.

"Ben thought he might be, but I guess even he can't be right all the time."

Tom let go of Walt, leaving the boy dangling by his tied hands. Tom and Danny stepped back out of the cage to admire their handiwork. Walt's hands were barely a decimeter below the top of the cage, while his feet dangled a decimeter from the floor. Yet Walt thought, _So far this isn't so bad. Got to get these two to leave before they do anything worse. Let's try an act._

Walt tried pulling one hand at a time through the knot binding them. The small amount of slack he had caused was not enough. Then he made a show of doing half a pull-up, as if trying to reach something, but then let his muscles relax, and he slowly dropped down to his full length. His feet kicked weakly and impotently in the air.

"All right you guys, you got me good. Now please come back in here and cut me down."

Danny responded by slamming the cell door shut, and Tom locked the padlock with his key. Walt was actually relieved, but kept up his act.

"Hey, what did you do that for? You can't leave me like this!"

"Any idea why we can't?" asked Danny of Tom.

"He looks good to me." Tom then called out to Walt: "You can't tell us what we can't do."

_That sounds like Locke's line,_ thought Walt. "But … but …"

Tom and Danny laughed as they walked away back to the village.

* * *

Ben had actually doubled back right after Walt entered the haircut room, and had been watching Walt through the one-way mirror. As soon as Walt climbed out the window, Ben left the medical building and crossed a short distance to another building. He adjusted some dials and monitors, and radioed Bea. "Bea, there has been a change of plans. Please come to the observation room immediately."

Not one to questions Ben's orders, Bea, who had gotten to the haircut room shortly after Walt left and had been waiting there, promptly came, still carrying the plain brown shirt and shorts she was going to give Walt. "What is it, Ben?"

"Our visitor has made a break for it, just as I anticipated. He will be brought to a cage soon by Tom and Danny. I want you to observe, and see if you can provide any more insight."

Ben flicked a switch, and the cage came into view. Moments later Tom and Danny appeared, leading Walt along on a rope. Bea guessed that the cage would be Walt's accommodations for the night.

"I guess we won't need these then." Bea dropped the clothes on a desk.

Ben was paying more attention to the screen than Bea. "No, not till tomorrow. He should look like one of us when we're outside the village when Richard comes."

Ben and Bea watched as Walt was strung up. It wasn't what Bea would have done, but she was captivated by the sight on the screen. She wondered what it would have been like if she had been able to have children, and if she did she would have loved to have a son like Walt. There was something about his fighting spirit, the athletic grace of his figure, and something of a noble savage quality to him. Bea continued to be mesmerized by the screen, finding it hard to believe that she would alienate this boy so severely in the future. Then she saw Tom and Danny leave the field of view, and snapped out of her reverie. "So is this punishment for running away, and the assaults on us?"

"It's more than that. You heard his story. I wanted to put him in a stressful situation, and see if something unusual happens, or if he can really communicate with Jacob and get Jacob to help him."

"You didn't waste any time."

"There may not be any time to waste. He said his plane will crash in four days, and we have to be prepared for that."

"How long will you let him hang there?"

"I'm planning on half an hour. That's about when his arms will start to ache pretty badly." Ben peered at the monitor, and adjusted the field of view so the cage filled up the screen. "That's odd, he seems to be laughing?"

"Perhaps he's delirious?"

Walt had no idea he was facing a hidden camera, but was grinning because of how badly his abilities had been underestimated. When he was sure Tom and Danny had gone, he swung his feet up. He missed catching them on the bars of the cage ceiling by a small margin. His legs swung back down and behind him, and on the next attempt with the added momentum, he was able to hook his feet through the ceiling bars. With some effort he twisted his lower legs through the bars and hooked his feet more securely, so that his legs bore a good fraction of his body weight. This allowed him to bend at the waist and hold the position long enough for him to untie the knot around the cage bar with both hands. Then hanging onto a ceiling bar, he unhooked his legs, hung by his full length for a second, and dropped to the floor, not even one minute after he had started the attempt to free himself.

His hands were still bound, but with the small amount of slack he had created while being tied, he was able to work the knot loose with the help of his teeth. This process took just about a minute, meaning he had untied himself in under two minutes. In a gesture of triumph, Walt flung the unknotted rope out of the cage, and beat his chest.

Inside the observation room, Bea remarked, "Benjamin, I don't believe that situation was particularly stressful for him."

Ben was annoyed for being so mistaken. "Can't argue with that; the boy seemed to be enjoying himself far too much. I appear to have seriously underestimated him. I may not have fully grasped the effects the Island has had on him over an extended period of time."

"So what should we do now?"

Ben thought about trying another experiment, but decided, "Why don't you feed him his dinner. Fish biscuits and water. His diet has been lacking in protein; we should rectify that. And talk to him; see if he tells you something he didn't tell Juliet."

"Juliet certainly did a great job of getting information from him, but I'll see what I can do."

As Bea approached the cage with a large bag of fish biscuits and water bottles, she saw Walt systematically pulling and pushing on the bars of the cage, and even trying to lift it off the ground. Then he jumped up to grasp two bars on the ceiling, and pulled himself up, but his head was too large to fit through.

"Those bars are made of reinforced tungsten, and were designed to hold a polar bear." Bea had arrived at the cage when Walt's back was turned. Walt spun around and dropped to the ground, and spoke with a glum voice.

"Oh, it's you. What do you want?"

Walt defiantly folded his arms across his chest.

"I want to get to know you better. I find it difficult to believe I will do the things you said I would."

"Well, you did. Or you will. I mean …"

"That's the problem. I have not done these things, yet you are taking out your anger on me."

"Then let me out of this cage."

"And what will you do if I let you?"

Walt hadn't expected that might be a possibility.

"I'd take that boat, and find a way to stop my plane from crashing."

"Have you considered the ramifications of that? There could be a younger version of you out there. If both of you met, you might wipe yourself out of existence."

The thought hadn't occurred to Walt. His arms dropped to his sides. Wanting to do something with his hands, he took hold of two of the bars and looked at Bea.

"I hadn't thought of that. You really think that would happen?"

"We don't know what would happen. That's why we have to consider things carefully."

When Walt didn't know what to say, Bea walked around the cage, and found the discarded rope. She picked it up, and changed the subject.

"By the way, I was told you would be tied up in here, with this I believe. Did someone let you go?"

Grateful for the change of subject and a chance to brag, Walt exclaimed, "No way! Those two jerks tied my hands and hung me from the ceiling, but I did this."

Walt jumped up to catch a ceiling bar, then swung his feet through bars at the end of the cage. "I untied the rope from the ceiling like this, and then came down and used my teeth to untie my hands." Walt released his feet, hung by his hands for a few seconds, and dropped to the floor.

Bea acted like she hadn't seen Walt do what he just said on the surveillance monitor. "This rope does have teeth marks in it. That was very resourceful of you. Where did you learn to do that?"

Walt was forgetting his apprehension toward Bea Klugh. It was as if this was a different person than the one he had known. "Actually I kind of had a lot of practice. While I was out there I got tied up and tangled in vines several times. It couldn't have always been natural, so I think Jacob was doing it to me."

_We're getting somewhere._ "I don't understand this Jacob. Did you say before he helped you, but he ties you up? Alone, in the jungle? That doesn't sound very helpful."

"Yeah, it's always when I'm alone. I don't understand Jacob either. He said something about having to experience some things to appreciate the Island, or something. Sometimes he appeared to me in the form of people to cheer me help or explain things, and other times there's this black smoke and he seems mad."

"That does sound odd about Jacob. When was the last time you heard from him?"

"About six weeks ago. He said I had to go on a walkabout for forty days. But he was mad, and left me hanging upside-down from a branch with my hands tied behind my back. I haven't seen him since, but he said he would explain everything to me."

"That sounds awful. How did you escape?"

"Ugh. It took about an hour before I got my feet loose, and that's because my head hit the ground and I got some weight off my feet. But then it took like four hours before I found something sharp enough to cut the vine tying my hands. That was so annoying." Walt finally noticed the bag Bea had brought. "So what's in the bag? Did you bring my clothes?"

"No, this is food for you. Since you've been living on fruit for so long we figured you could use some protein. But I'm afraid you're in your sleepwear for the night. Ben's orders." Bea pulled out a couple of the fish biscuits, and handed one to Walt through the cage bars. Walt hadn't realized how hungry he was, and voraciously wolfed down a biscuit.

"Never mind, food is a lot more important. Besides, this grass skirt is a lot better than what I had when Jacob left me …"

Bea didn't understand why Walt didn't finish the sentence. "The skirt looks natural on you, like you're used to it, but what could it be much better than?"

Walt had spoken himself into a corner, and had to admit, "Um, nothing. Jacob left me hanging naked from that tree. Hey, these biscuits are kind of dry. You got water?"

"Yes, here have some." Bea passed a bottle through the bars, while her opinion of Jacob went down. "Don't drink it too quickly."

Walt had started to gulp it down, then slowed down. Feeling more comfortable with Bea, he asked, "Ms. Klugh, do I really have to spend the night in here? I feel like I'm an exhibit in a zoo, or maybe a circus, do you know? I promise I won't run away." Walt hung onto the bars and tried to look pathetic.

_He calls Juliet by her first name, and with me he's still formal. But I am older enough that he should._

"I don't think Ben would approve of that. And, I believe old circuses sometimes locked someone in a cage on display, usually in a grass skirt or loincloth, and advertise him as a savage, or something like the 'Wild Man from Borneo.' But they'd do things like put a lot of body paint on, or put a ring in his nose, or a bone in his hair. Fortunately they don't do that anymore, and while you may have lived in the wild for months you're definitely civilized."

"Um, thanks." Walt ate some more biscuits and drank more water.

Bea continued, "This is what we're going to do. We're going to leave you alone in there all night. This sounds like a situation where Jacob would visit you, right?"

Walt was disappointed, but had to admit, "Yeah, it could be. No problem sleeping on the ground in the open."

"Well, good night then." Bea took up the empty bag and water bottles and returned to the village, and made a full report to Ben.

"Yes, this does sound like a way to contact Jacob," Agreed Ben. We need all the information we can get. I hope Walt is sufficiently stressed to warrant such a visit.

* * *

There was one last burst of light for the passengers lost in the black smoke, lasting just long enough for the smoke to form an image of Walt eating the last of the fish biscuits in the cage.

"How about that, Sawyer, you haven't been left out after all," commented Ben.

Sawyer grumbled. "Wonderful."


	34. Guardian of the Island?

Author's Notes

All4jesus: Sawyer, and the other "Left-behinds", have been together in the smoke for some time. In Chapter 7, Widmore's crew rounded up all those left on the Island, including Sawyer, Richard, Daniel, and several others. In Chapter 8, black smoke engulfed the freighter, sending all into limbo. In Chapter 17, all the plane survivors, Oceanic 6 and the Left-behinds were surrounded by one part of the black smoke, so they are all together now. Sawyer is the most vocal Left-behind.

* * *

Walt gets more clues from Jacob, and meets Richard. The future world left behind is updated.

* * *

Darkness fell, and Walt was left alone locked in the cage. With nothing to do, he lay down on the ground. It had been a busy day, and he fell asleep easily. Before long, he was having another unusual dream. He was facing a mirror, and dressed in royal garments, including handsome flowing purple robes and a golden crown. The same deep voice that Walt had heard when Jacob identified himself spoke.

"Congratulations! You have proven yourself worthy of being Guardian of the Island."

"Guardian of … what does that mean?"

"You shall protect the Island against all threats by those who would use its properties for evil."

"Me, the protector? Uh, for how long?"

"The rest of your life. Your long, long life."

This is not what Walt had in mind.

"I don't want to be here the rest of my life. I just want my normal life back."

There was a roar of thunder. A strong whirlwind blew, and Walt was stripped of his royal garments until he was down to a grass skirt, and that felt dangerously loose around his hips. His arms were forced up, he felt his hands being tied over his heads, and the floor fell away beneath his feet. He didn't fall, as the rope binding his hands was suspended from a point out of sight; perhaps a very high ceiling. It was much like when Tom and Danny left him dangling, though now there was no cage. Walt struggled with his hands, and kicked his feet, but on this occasion there was no getting loose. He stopped when he was afraid any more motion would cause him to lose his grass skirt. Resigned, he could only look at his reflection, his stomach stretched taut across his rib cage. Then his image disappeared, and he was surrounded by black smoke.

"What's going on?" Walt cried. "You said I could go after I finished my walkabout."

"To be Guardian of the Island is the greatest honor. It is time for a new Guardian, and you are the chosen one."

"Thanks, but can't you keep that up for a while longer?"

There was silence for a minute, and then the deep voice returned. "I never said I was the Guardian." More silence, and then,

"You could have gone, but circumstances have changed. Your actions indicated that you want to change the future, that you care for your fellow passengers, people who are strangers to you in this present."

"This present? You mean … will it happen again? Or did everything already happen? I don't understand how this works."

"It is very complicated. In general if one tries to change destiny the universe will self-correct. You pushed the light aircraft off the cliff in an attempt to save Boone. Boone then won't contact Bernard on the radio. That would cause the tail survivor's group to move a little faster. With the different timing, Ana-Lucia would not be in position to shoot and kill Shannon. However, this only means Boone and Shannon will suffer different fatal accidents a short time later."

"Wait – you said in general. Is it possible that …?"

"In some circumstances, a special person may be able to alter a substantial portion of history. It requires an exceptionally strong will and the right energy source, an extremely powerful one."

"Am I … that special?"

"It remains to be seen."

Walt sighed, needing a breath. He couldn't see anything, and wasn't sure if his eyes were open or closed.

"What happens to everyone if I get off this island like I was going to? Won't the plane not crash because I blew up the hatch?"

"The same events will unfold as before. The universe will correct, and your airplane will still crash, perhaps because an electromagnetic field will arise in an unfortunate place at an unfortunate time, or perhaps for a different reason."

"And will everyone die?"

"You will not, but everyone else on board will be dead in four years."

"I can't let that happen! What if I stop that plane from taking off?"

"It is most unlikely you would be able to, and even if you did, the next flight would suffer the same fate."

"What happens if I stay on the island until then?"

"Possibly the same events, or possibly something different if you change something about the flight. But there is one more consideration: two copies of you cannot exist at the same place at the same time."

"What? So what should I do?"

"You must prove to me that you are sincere in your desire to change things as you say. Your final test shall come soon."

The smoke dissipated, or at least Walt felt that it did. He was still in total darkness, but was feeling something in his arms. When he tried to move, he discovered his hands were indeed tied over his head. _What just happened? Did Jacob do this? Or those Others … but I would have heard them open the door, and hoist me up. Did I do this to myself? Reach through the bars for the rope, tie a slip knot, and reverse what I did this past afternoon?_

Walt tried to swing his feet up and hook his legs into the bars on the ceiling as before, but in the dark couldn't see what he was doing, and painfully stubbed his toes. He tried to force his hands apart, but didn't have the strength or energy. He did one pull-up to try to untie his hands with his teeth, but with his full weight pulling the knot tight had no success with that. He dropped to full length, experiencing on odd sensation with his spine being stretched and grass blades sliding against his groin, butt, and hips. It felt like his skirt was sliding off, and he desperately wanted to reach it and readjust it, but there was no way he could do anything of the sort as his strength faded. Out of frustration, he yelled out, "Jacob! Why do you keep doing this to me?"

One second later Walt was buffeted by a strong cold wind. It left him shivering, but more alarming, caused him to indeed lose his grass skirt as it dropped to the cage floor and blew against a wall. "Hey!" Walt was too tired to do anything but rest for fifteen minutes, when the sky began to lighten an hour before dawn. The light had a pronounced effect on him. Suddenly alert and re-energized, Walt swung his feet up accurately, braced his abdominal muscles, and upon finding his hands were indeed only tied by a slip knot, and freed them easily. He dropped to the cage floor in under a minute, but just then another wind gust blew his skirt through the bars and out of reach. _No, no, no, no, no!_

Alone in the jungle this was no cause for concern, but with people coming to see him soon, Walt became more self-conscious. "Jacob, I'm sorry I yelled at you. Please help me, and I'll do whatever you say."

The wind stopped blowing, but that was all. Walt panicked for a few minutes, yanking on all the cell bars. When that got him nowhere, he grabbed handfuls of grass through the bars. He could tie some together, but none were long enough to make a good waistband. Then he remembered the rope, still tied to the ceiling. _I can use that as a belt!_ Walt climbed back up and untied the rope, then wrapped it around his hips. For the next half hour he stuffed the longer grass blades in his new waistband, and as the sun broke the horizon had a garment that looked a lot like the one he had been incarcerated with. He pinched himself to make sure he was functioning normally.

And woke up for real on the cage floor as the sun really was rising over the horizon. _What? That was all a dream?_ Walt stood up carefully. His arms were not aching, and his skirt was reasonably intact. The rope was still lying on the ground outside the cage, where Bea had left it. _Man, was something in those fish biscuits?_ Walt took several steady deep breaths to steady his nerves. He performed some exercises, sit-ups, push-ups, and pull-ups on the ceiling bars. Feeling better, he was able to be casually holding onto the bars an hour later when Ben arrived.

"Good morning, Walt. Did you sleep well?"

"Sure. I'm used to sleeping like this." _I'm not telling him everything about last night._

"Are you ready to come out now, and no more trying to escape?"

Walt imagined that Tom or Danny or Mikhail was lurking nearby, ready to tase him or something if Walt made another break for it.

"I promise."

"All right then, we're going back to the medical building, get you dressed, and have a real breakfast."

They were on their way, when Richard arrived ahead of schedule. Just outside the medical building, Richard's jaw dropped the moment he saw Walt. Richard recovered in a second, but not before Ben noticed the face of recognition. Walt was puzzled, as he certainly had never seen Richard before.

"Richard, you have met our guest before?" asked Ben.

"No, he just looks a lot like someone I met a long time ago, when I was a little boy."

"Very well then. Richard, this is Walt, and Walt, this is Richard."

Ben felt Richard may have been hiding something, but wasn't going to press the matter in front of Walt. Nobody else was up outside, or so Ben thought, as they went inside. Greeting them was Bea Klugh.

"Good morning, gentlemen. Walt, your new clothes are in that room. Sorry we couldn't make shoes that fit you on such short notice, but I imagine you're used to going barefoot."

"Uh, yes, that will be fine."

Walt went into the indicated room, and put on the plain brown shirt and shorts while removing the grass skirt before it fell apart. He came back out.

"How does that feel, Walt?" asked Ben.

"It itches."

Ben was slightly perturbed. "No doubt because you haven't worn real clothes in three months. I'm sure you'll get used to them."

"Yeah."

Bea disappeared, and Walt, Ben, and Richard went to a new building, which served as a cafeteria. Entering a private room, they sat down to a good breakfast of bacon, eggs, hash browns, toast, and juice.

When they were finished, Ben started. "So Richard, what can you do to help us?"

"I'm really not sure. Apparently I was expected at some time in the future, when I would presumably know more than I do now."

"Well, Walt then, would you describe your experiences with Jacob to Richard, and see if he can make sense of them?"

"This may sound crazy, but I think this Jacob takes on several different forms. Sometimes he's people, and other times this black smoke. Sometimes he helped me, cheering me up, and scaring a polar bear away, and other times he made it hard on me, like getting me tied up in vines or stuck in mud or quicksand."

Walt and Ben looked at Richard, who replied, "That does not sound crazy. That sounds like the sort of things Jacob would do: testing you, pushing you to your limits."

"Why does he have to do that? It often took hours, or sometimes a day or two, to get loose."

"I'm sure he feels it's necessary for the benefit of the Island. He may have big plans for you."

Ben spoke up. "We left Walt in a cage last night. He said that often … interesting … things happen when he's under stress. So Walt, did it work?"

Walt knew he had to tell some of the truth. "I think so … I had a really weird dream, and it sounded like Jacob was talking to me. It seems like I supposed to stay on the island for the time being."

Ben was glad that the experiment worked. He wasn't accustomed to locking children in cages, but perhaps he was destined to worse things? "Did Jacob tell you what we should do?"

Walt took a deep breath. "He wasn't very specific. It sounded like if we do some things, history will happen the way I remember, or close to it, or correct itself. But if we change some things in some ways, it might make things better."

"Better? What is going to go wrong?"

"All sorts of things. Natural disasters, pandemics, lots of people dying. Maybe even the end of the world."

Ben found that hard to believe. "Richard, is that plausible?"

"You can't rule anything out when it comes to Jacob. I haven't communicated with him in a long time, but see no reason to doubt that." Turning to Walt, "Walt, think carefully. Did Jacob say anything about a course of action?"

"He said something about changing something about my flight. The one that's going to crash here in three days, maybe. Oh yeah, also something about two copies of me can't exist at the same time in the same place."

This gave Richard food for thought. "So … there is a younger version of you right now in the outside world somewhere?"

"I guess so, in Sydney. I'm ten, and I just met my real father. We're supposed to fly to Los Angeles, but we're going to fly here instead, and crash, and then I going to get kidnapped, and my dad will go crazy, and our lives get all ruined!"

Walt was losing his composure, glaring at Ben. Richard tried to calm him down. "Why would Ben kidnap you?"

"He said, I mean will say, or … whatever, that the Island demanded it, or Jacob did."

Ben had to respond. "I'm sure my future self had the best interests of the Island at heart, if that's indeed what happened, or will happen. But now, something different may be better? Walt, do you know why your plane crashed?"

"They said it was due to an electromagnetic burst from the Swan Hatch. It messed up all sorts of equipment. But Jacob said the plane might crash again anyway."

"Wait a minute," Richard realized. "This Island is nowhere near the flight path from Sydney to Los Angeles, or any commercial flight path for that matter."

"Oh, there was a radio problem earlier and the pilot tried to get to Fiji. Said we were a thousand miles off course."

"Then the Island did not cause the radio problem. Hmm. We need to see what the radiation levels are by the Swan."

"I'll send someone on it right away. Is there anything else?"

"I don't think so," answered Walt.

"All right then, Walt, you'll have to stay in a special room for now. I'm sure you understand. There is reading material in there to keep you occupied."

Sure it was pointless, and quite possibly unwise to resist, Walt let Ben lead him to a house at the edge of the Village, and lock him in a bedroom. It had a small refrigerator and an adjoining bathroom, so Walt would be fine indefinitely. There was one window, and Walt had no doubt that it was being watched. He sat down in a chair and picked up a book. "_Slaughterhouse Five." I think I heard about that._

Ben and Richard continued to talk elsewhere in that house. A couple hours later Ethan radioed Ben that Walt's medical lab results had come in. Ben and Richard went back to Ethan's office.

"What is the news?" asked Ben.

Ethan tried to compose himself. "For the most part, the boy is in excellent shape considering he's been alone in the jungle for so long. His iron is a bit low, due to lack of protein in his diet, while his Vitamin D level is off the chart. No doubt he has been outside almost constantly the past few months, and wearing at most next to nothing. His heart is fine, but there's something off with his brain waves. I've never seen anything like it, as if something is out of sync. If he really has traveled through time, that could explain it.

But the disturbing thing is he had absorbed a great deal of radiation. The hair samples confirm the time; just about three months ago. But the blood and urine samples also show it – it's a miracle he wasn't killed in the blast, but – at the rate of radiation growth – gentlemen, I fear he has only a few weeks to live."

* * *

The movement of Walt, Ben, and Richard from the cage to the medical building had not gone unobserved. Alex wondered why her father, or so she thought, had gotten up so early without telling her. Long suspicious of Ben, and resentful of him for limiting her time with Karl, she sought someone else who might give her answers. That afternoon, she casually strolled into Juliet's house. Juliet was surprised to see Alex.

"Why Alex, what brings you here?"

"I'll get to the point immediately. Do you know anything about a new arrival my father is hiding from me?"

"New arrival?" Juliet's expression told Alex that Juliet knew something.

"Come on, I mean the kid who looks like he came straight from traditional Papua New Guinea."

Juliet glanced around to make sure no one else was there. "Come in." When they were seated, Juliet explained, "This is going to be very hard to believe. That boy, Walt, came here through a portal in the Orchid. He's been living on this Island for four or five months, and comes from three or four years in the future."

"You're right, that is very hard to believe."

"That's what we all thought, but Ben strapped a lie detector on Walt, and everything was confirmed. Walt also told me a lot while I was cutting his hair. It was easy to believe that that hadn't been cut in several months."

Alex was shocked. "This portal … can we use it to get off this island?"

"I'm not sure. There's apparently some wheel down there, but only some people can turn it and move the Island. I don't know how it works. The Island might move through space, or time, or both."

Alex considered the new information. "If he's from the future, does he know what happens to us?"

It was Juliet's turn to be surprised. "I didn't think to ask him that. I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"I have to know," insisted Alex. "If Daddy's going to keep me and Karl apart forever I'll … I'll do something."

"Don't rush in to anything," Juliet warned. "We're not sure what we're dealing with."

"I still have to know. And I bet I know where Daddy is keeping him; there're only a couple places. I can ask Walt myself."

There was no changing Alex's mind once it was made up. Juliet responded, "Promise to be careful. Of course no word of this conversation to Ben."

"Of course. But why are you referring to Daddy by his name? You always say 'your father,' to me."

Alex was suspicious, and Juliet felt it better for Alex to hear from her than from Walt.

"There's a good chance that Ben is not your real father. And that your mother is insane, but alive, and still on this Island."

Alex gulped. She thought that she and Ben had little in common, but this was a shock. "Mother? Alive? Insane? Here?"

"Yes, Walt ran into her, on the south part of the island. Actually got caught in one of her traps. She was suspicious, and kept him in handcuffs for weeks until he escaped."

"My mother … handcuffed a kid for weeks?"

"I'm afraid so. Also kept him in that Papua New Guinean outfit the whole time as you so eloquently put it. The boy's had clothing issues since he blew up the Swan Hatch."

"Th-thank you for telling me. I will find out more tonight."

"Good luck. And a hint: he likes shoulder rubs."

Alex casually left Juliet's house when the coast was clear, and planned events for that night.

* * *

June 16, 2008: When Charles Widmore woke up in the morning, he decided to visit the one person he thought could help: Eloise Hawking. He flew on his private jet across the Atlantic and the States to Los Angeles. Along the way he heard more news reports of impending disasters, among them one that the ozone hole had expanded to cover the entire southern hemisphere. A driver was waiting when he arrived at the airport, and drove him to Eloise's residence. When he finally saw her he asked,

"The world is falling apart. You must realize the Island is the only possible hope. What can we do?"

Eloise maintained a regal air. "I'm afraid the matter is not in our hands, and there is nothing we can do."

"How can you know that?"

"I suppose you must see for yourself. Let us go."

Charles and Eloise walked a few blocks to a church and down several steps, and into a room with a large Foucault-like pendulum swinging aimlessly over a map of the world. Eloise explained, "This station is known as the Lamp Post. It has been used to attempt to locate the Island."

"Why didn't you tell me about this before?"

"Because you broke the rules, Charles."

Charles frowned._ It must be more than marrying and having a child off-Island._

Eloise practically read his thoughts. "It's not just about Penny. The Island clearly wanted Alexandra Rousseau alive."

"I didn't tell Keamy to kill Alex. That guy was out of control."

"But you did tell him to capture Ben by any means necessary, did you not?"

Charles sighed. "Yes, I said something to that effect. But I couldn't believe he would kill an innocent child."

Wanting to change the subject, genuinely extremely curious about the pendulum, asked,

"How does it work?"

"The pendulum swings in a periodic manner over the most likely locations. Up to a few days ago the Island was known to be in the Indian Ocean, but there was movement. I imagine you know something about that."

Charles was uncomfortable. "I was almost there. It became uninhabitable when those left behind flooded it with gas. It was just dissipating, and my crew approaching, when it suddenly disappeared. Then the black smoke appeared and … pushed us away."

"So the Island disappeared. You know how that could happen. Tell me, did the Oceanic Six reach the exit point and turn the donkey wheel?"

"No … I stopped that. I intended to bring the Oceanics back after my jets caught them when they tried to run away. I had all of them, except the Littleton child, and had Linus, and even Locke's body. They were supposed to ensure that I could land safely."

Eloise looked intently on Charles. "If that is the case, and the Island still moved, then there remains but one possibility. A certain passenger you overlooked. One named … Walter?"

"A certain passenger I didn't even know was alive. He escaped right from under my nose in Chad, which is where we ran Linus and the Oceanics down. But yes, you're right; the Lloyd boy must have found and turned the wheel."

"But something went wrong?"

"Before the smoke overtook us, Linus said Walter must have turned the wheel too far. A few days later I found myself in London. Now, what light can you shed on this?"

"Look at the pattern drawn by the pendulum."

"There isn't any pattern; it's just random."

"That is correct; as you can see, there is no pattern now. The implication of this is that the Island is not existing in our time, nor in any time in the foreseeable future. If something does not happen soon, life will be unsustainable on the planet."

"When will we know for sure?"

"If Walter did indeed travel too far back in time, the moment of truth will be when the original flight is due to crash. Before that happens, he must induce Jacob to change whatever is necessary to avoid all the recent disasters. Based on the latest scientific readings, all animal life on Earth will perish in three days. Then plant life in four."

Charles was stunned. "You mean, all of us have three days to live? Unless ..."

"That is correct. You may wish to put your affairs in order, though there would be no one to make use of that."

"There doesn't seem to be much point in that, is there? I shall be in town."

Charles and Eloise left the Lamp Post; Eloise going back to her residence, and Charles to an office building that was part of Widmore Enterprises.


	35. Room 23

Preparations are made for the impending Flight 815.

* * *

The day passed, and Walt had to go to bed. There was no change of clothes in his room, and as his clothes still itched, he removed his shirt and rolled up the legs of his shorts. This felt better, but he found that lying under a single sheet wasn't as comfortable as lying on top of it. _Maybe I've become too used to sleeping without any covers._ It took half an hour for him to fall asleep, lying on his back.

At midnight Alex got up, silently climbed through a window, went to another house, and tapped on the window, a signal to Karl. He climbed outside, and they went to the edge of the village. With her eyes adjusted to the dark, Alex spotted Danny patrolling outside. She whispered,

"That must be the house. Time for your diversion, Karl."

"Got it."

While Alex took cover behind a tree, Karl moved away from the house into the woods, and then around to the far side of the house. From a good distance he threw a rock against that side.

"Who's there!?" demanded Danny, and he went around the corner to investigate. Within a few seconds, Alex lifted the window up and climbed through. Karl remained quiet, and Danny, not wanting to abandon his post for long, returned to the side with the window. _Probably a bird hit the house._

"Walt, wake up," Alex whispered.

At first Walt thought he was dreaming, and didn't move. Alex then shook his shoulders, and then Walt realized something was different. He sat up, and tried to adjust his eyes to the dark. "Wh—?"

"Quiet!" Alex instructed. "I need to ask you some questions."

Walt yawned, and then replied, "Okay, what?"

"I heard you come from the future. I need to know … what happens to me, and Karl?"

"I … I … I don't think I should tell you. Oh," Walt reached around and tried to scratch his back. "Sorry, my back itches."

Alex saw her chance. "I have something that might help. Lie down on your stomach."

Walt did as instructed, still too groggy to argue. Alex then squirted some of the rubbing cream onto his back, and started rubbing it in.

"Aahhhh, that feels good," commented Walt.

Alex said nothing for a minute, getting the cream into Walt's back and shoulders. Then she asked, "Can you tell me about my mother then?"

"S-sure …" Walt's brain only told him he wanted the back rub to continue, and thus he was willing to answer.

"Your mother is alive, but she's kind of insane. She lives in the south part of the island, in a bunker that's well-hidden. She's a great hunter, and she's good at making traps. I fell into one, a rope trap; that's how she caught me. I hit my head and woke up handcuffed to a bed frame."

Alex was captivated by the story, and unconsciously rubbed harder. Walt didn't mind. He hadn't noticed how much he had been using his muscles recently, when trying to escape the cage.

"You poor thing. So you lived with her for a while?"

"Yes, but she was always suspicious of me. She thought I was one of the Others, and kept me in handcuffs and leg irons all the time. But she did show me how to survive in the jungle; what fruits were good to eat, and how to find water."

"So she isn't completely mad?"

"I guess not; I don't know for sure. Aaaah, that feels great." Walt shifted a little, and relaxed.

"Did she tell you how we were separated?"

"Yes, she said Ben took you away from her when you were a baby, like one week old. He says she was insane then, but Ben lies a lot."

After the conversation with Juliet, Alex was prepared for that answer. She continued,

"What happened to my real father, then?"

"I'm sorry, but he died before you were born. His name was Robert. I didn't find anything more about him."

Alex was disappointed, and paused for a moment. Then she when he seemed relaxed again, asked, "Now please tell me what happens to me in the future."

Walt still didn't want to answer, turned over to face Alex. As he weakly scratched his itchy stomach he replied, "Bad things. Stuff you probably would rather not know."

But Alex had to know. She squirted some of the lotion onto his stomach, and began working that into his skin. She tried a strategy that was more likely to get an answer.

"Can you tell me what happens to Juliet?"

Walt didn't know anything special about her. "She just stays on this island, at least for the next three years."

Pleased with the success, Alex tried again. "Now can you tell me about me, and Karl? Please, I have to know."

Alex's touch was so soothing Walt couldn't help reply.

"I'm sorry, but in about two months, some bad people sent by Charles Widmore are going to come here to try to take Ben. They kill your mother and Karl, and use you as a hostage."

Alex feared something like this might be the case. "And then what?"

"It … doesn't turn out good."

"You have to tell me." Noticing that Walt was now scratching his chest, Alex squirted more of the lotion onto his sternum, and began rubbing lotion into his chest with some force. Walt was pinned. His flailed his arms weakly and then rested them to the sides of his head. The sensation of Alex's touch was overwhelming, and he was compelled to answer.

"Ben doesn't negotiate with them, and their leader shoots you dead."

Alex was not happy, and didn't realize how hard she was pushing Walt into the mattress. She let up, and asked,

"That's it? Can … can we change that?"

Walt yawned, and seemed to drift off to sleep. Then he spoke slowly.

"Jacob says we normally can't change history, except for small details. But there might be a way …"

"What is it?"

"If you could get through the portal in the Orchid before that happens, it might work. But I don't know if you can push the wheel. You might have to be very special. I can do it, and Ben, and Mr. Locke, but he's dead. Maybe Jacob will tell me."

Alex heard the low whistle from Karl, and dived under the bed. Walt flipped onto his stomach to hide his heartbeat and breathing, and lay still, and Danny did indeed open the door to check on him. Seeing nothing suspicious, Danny left the room and locked the door.

Alex was ready to leave, when Walt spoke in an unnaturally deep voice. "Meet me at the Orchid. You will know when."

"Walt, are you awake?" Alex's question got no answer. Sensing that she had learned enough, she climbed out the window before Danny got around to the back. She met up with Karl, kissed him, and then the two of them made their way back home unseen.

Jacob made a decision. He would send a message using Walt without the latter's knowledge.

* * *

Desmond and Penny had been spending most of their time on Desmond's boat, which was docked in Hawaii. As they lay in bed sleeping, Desmond had a dream. He heard Walt pleading for help,

"Desmond … you must pay attention. We need your help."

Desmond blinked. The image he saw was Walt hanging by his tied hands from the ceiling of the cage and his feet tied together as well.

"W-Walt? Is that you? What happened to you?"

"I am still on the island, but that is not important. What is important is that you need to go to Fiji."

"Fiji? Why?"

"I cannot tell you now; you must trust me. Sail to Fiji, but approach from the north. Bring three satellite telephones and all the medical equipment you can fit on board."

"Medical … are you hurt?"

But the image of Walt faded into darkness, and Desmond woke up with a start.

"Yaaaahhh!"

This woke Penny. "Oh Desmond, not another nightmare? I thought you were over those."

Desmond composed himself. "It was nothing, dear. I do think that we could use a change of scenery, though. How about we go visit Fiji?"

Penny was suspicious at the sudden request, but there was no good reason not to go.

"If that's what you really want, that's fine with me."

"Great. I'll just get some supplies in the morning and we'll be off. I love you, Penny."

"And I love you, Des." They kissed and went back to sleep.

* * *

When Walt woke up on the next morning, September 20, 2004, he was confused. He wasn't sure if Alex had really visited him, or Jacob had. The itching wasn't so bad, and he put on his shirt and rolled down his shorts, and knocked on his door. Ben responded quickly, and asked,

"Did you sleep well? Any disturbances?"

Walt did not want to mention Alex to Ben, and avoided direct eye contact.

"Sure, no problem."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, what could have happened in that locked room?"

Ben felt that Walt was hiding something, but Richard was coming, and Ben let it go for time being. The three of them had another meal, and when they were done, Richard asked,

"Ben, did you find out anything about the Swan Hatch?"

"Yes, there are still significant levels of radiation at the site, and the levels are falling off slowly. While a lot of energy was released at one, there was still an enormous reservoir there.

"Now Richard, have you come up with anything?"

"I did think of something." Facing Walt, "Walt, can you tell me the names of all the people you were on this Island with?"

"Sure. There was Jack Shephard, Kate Austen, Sawyer, oh his real name was something else, James Ford, John Locke, Hurley, or Hugo Reyes, Charlie Pace, Claire Littleton. Boone Carlyle, Shannon Rutherford, Jin and Sun Kwon, Sayid Jarrah, Rose Nadler, Leslie Arzt, uh … two guys named Scott and Steve, I never knew their last names. And my dad was Michael Dawson. I know there were more, but I didn't get to know them."

Walt started scratching his chest and stomach again, through his plain brown shirt.

"None of those names means anything to me," commented Ben. "Do they to you, Richard?"

Richard's face didn't betray anything, but instead turned his attention to Walt's behavior.

"Walt, are you ill?"

"I don't know, I just got all itchy kind of a sudden."

"We better take to you Ethan immediately."

Ben had to agree, and soon they were all in Ethan's office. It was apparent to Ethan that Walt had developed a rash of some sort. Walt had to remove his shirt and roll up his shorts legs, and Ethan took several skin samples using swabs, and noticed that the rash did not extend to Walt's forearms, lower legs, or head.

"Walt, it looks like the radiation blast has affected your skin in an unpleasant manner. Have you experienced this before?"

"No, it just started yesterday."

"This may be making sense. Now tell me, besides that grass skirt you came in here with two days ago, what have you been wearing since the explosion, or implosion, of the Swan?"

Walt let out a breath. _I have to tell the truth if I'm going to get better._ "Nothing."

"Nothing? You mean …"

"Yeah, I mean I either wore a grass skirt like I had, or nothing, unless you count Danielle's handcuffs. Didn't someone tell you? That blast blew off all my clothes, and I woke up butt-naked at the bottom of a deep pit. It took hours to get out; that was so embarrassing."

"That's all right; actually that may have been fortunate for you. This rash doesn't look too serious. What I want you to do is take a bath, and pour some of this stuff in it." Ethan took a bottle of some kind of medicinal bath oil beads from a shelf and handed it to Walt. This will make bubbles, and one deciliter should be enough. Soak in there as long as you want, and then we'll get you some … minimal attire to wear for a couple days. Pat yourself dry with a towel, don't rub your skin. Try to sit or sleep on hard surfaces, and not move around much, for that time. Then you should be good as new." _Though he will probably die from radiation poisoning in a few weeks._

Walt welcomed the opportunity to be away from the others for a while, and gladly took the bottle from Ethan and went into the bathroom. It had a deep tub behind a sliding glass door. Walt turned on the water, adjusted the temperature, hung up his shorts on a towel bar, and got in. He squirted a deciliter of the medicine in under the running water, and dense bubbles quickly formed. They tingled, relieving his itch, and then faded in intensity. _It'll feel better with more bubbles._ Walt aimed the bottle under the still running water and squeezed hard, and the top broke off, sending just about a liter of the beads into the tub. _Oops._

Lying back, the tingling sensation did increases, and soon the bubbles were in Walt's face. He pushed them away, but the mass built up over his head. He got to his knees, and then his feet, finding himself waist-deep in soothing bubbles. The relieving sensation was so powerful that he stood there transfixed as the bubbles covered his stomach, and then his chest, and then his shoulders. Finally realizing he had better turn off the water, he held his breath bent down, fumbled for the faucet, turned it off, and stood back up. But by this time the bubbles were over his head. He flailed his arms to get some breathing space in front of his face, and watched as the bubbles continued to rise to the ceiling.

He didn't want to make a mess, which he might have to clean up, by opening the shower door, so he resolved to stand there until the bubbles went away. By bending his neck upward, his breathing would blow away bubbles that fell toward his face. Walt was not disappointed when it took nearly an hour for the bubbles to subside.

Outside in the medical building, Richard admitted to Ben,

"Ben, that list of names Walt gave us does indeed mean something to me. I think I know what is going on. I believe I know why Jacob has selected Walt, and made him go through all those ordeals." Richard explained in detail, and Ben looked shaken when Richard was done.

"I have to admit that everything you said makes sense. At first it's hard to believe, but upon reflection it makes perfect sense. But what do we do now?"

"First our visitor needs something to wear. You heard the doctor." Richard went to another room, picked out some strong white fabric, and cut it into an oddly shaped pattern. After some adroit folding, it was apparently a loincloth.

"Minimal attire is right," commented Ben. "And now what?"

"I'm sure I have to take Walt to the Black Rock. If I'm wrong Jacob will let me know."

"And no doubt this has to be done before the plane crash in two days."

"Correct. We'll leave tomorrow since it will take a full day to get there."

"Is there anything else?"

"I'm not sure. If there is, Jacob will let us know."

Having cleaned up a slight mess, Walt then came out of the bathroom, with a towel wrapped around his waist. Richard walked up to him, and handed him the loincloth. "Here, please put this on."

"Are you kidding?" asked Walt, but it was obvious Richard wasn't. Walt went back into the bathroom to put it on. It was a struggle getting the waistband over his hips. He looked in the mirror, and adjusted his new garment. It barely covered what was necessary, and that was all. _I look ridiculous, but it isn't the first time. At least I feel great, and they didn't find out about the bubbles._ He came back out, sighing. "So what's up?"

"We are making a trip to the Black Rock tomorrow. So we're going to have a good dinner and then get a good night's rest."

In the afternoon, Alex sought out Juliet, and told her about her conversation with Walt.

"You're going to be killed?" Juliet gasped.

"Maybe. If what Walt says is true there may be a chance. Karl and I intend to be at the Orchid when the time is right, if we can figure out what that means. And you can come with us. We might need your help."

"Definitely, I want to get off this island more than anything. Another three years sounds unbearable. But you … Karl … that's just so horrible! I'll do whatever it takes."

"Great. And of course not a word to Ben."

"Of course."

Richard, Ben, and Walt had a quiet dinner. When they were done, Richard left first, with Ben announcing,

"I have a good place for Walt to sleep tonight, where he won't exacerbate that rash."

But after Richard left, Ben poured a glass of tea for Walt and himself. Ben made a face.

"My tea's rather bitter, how's yours?"

Walt took a sip. "Pretty bitter, yeah."

"Here, let me sweeten these up a bit." Ben put a sugar cube in each drink – but Walt's was laced with a half-dose of sodium pentathol. Ben knew that Walt would be compelled to tell the truth, but might become violent and have to be restrained.

Walt finished his drink, and commented, "I feel funny."

"I'm sure you're just tired, let's hurry and get you to bed."

Ben took Walt's arm and led him to an adjacent building, down some stairs and into a room numbered 23. Walt's brain was confused, so he didn't recognize the place at first, but when he did, he took a swing at Ben.

"What are you doing? I knew you were evil!"

But on this occasion Ben was well prepared for the attack, and got Walt in a hammerlock. He forced Walt to a table, and flipped him onto his back. Walt struggled mightily, but Ben, skilled in martial arts, managed to loop one of Walt's wrists in a strap, but not too tightly, and then the other. Walt kicked Ben hard in the stomach, and Ben needed several seconds to recover. When he did, he carefully grabbed one of Walt's flailing legs, and secured that ankle with a third strap. Soon the fourth strap was secured around Walt's other ankle. Walt struggled for a couple minutes, and felt his wrists slipping slowly out of the straps, when his demeanor changed and he broke into a grin.

Ben thought, _Now he should be ready to answer questions. But I need to be careful._ Out loud, he asked, "Walt, are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be okay?"

"Because you're tied down and look like you're trying very hard to escape."

Walt laughed. "Sure I was trying to escape. There isn't much else do for fun on this island."

Ben was relieved that he hadn't gone too far, and that Walt wasn't suffering.

"So you find this fun?"

"Sure. Don't you know, lots of boys like to be tied up and try to escape? And I think I can …. Yes!"

To Ben's surprise, Walt succeeded in pulling one wrist out of its strap, and then the other. He sat up.

"That was so cool! It feels so great to escape, especially when it's a challenge."

Ben was alarmed. Walt wasn't in his normal mind, and Ben wasn't sure how to handle the situation. Then he tried,

"Would you like to try that again and make it more of a challenge?"

Walt giggled, and then said, "Okay." He lay back and extended his arms toward the corners of the table. Ben was a bit surprised at how accommodating Walt was, but managed to secure Walt's wrists again, tightening the straps by another notch. Ben walked around the table, adjusting all the straps so that Walt's limbs were fully stretched out.

"All right, now try to escape again."

Walt struggled some more, but this time had no chance. He started laughing again after a minute. "Ha ha ha, Benjy, you got me. I can't get loose."

_Benjy? I hope he's still coherent enough to answer._

"Are you still having fun?"

"Sure! It wouldn't be as much fun if I could escape every time I get tied up. Part of the excitement is not knowing whether I can."

Ben was relieved that Walt was still logical, after a fashion.

"Good. Now I want you to answer some questions."

"Oooh, are you going to tickle me to make me talk?"

"Tickle you? No."

"But that's what you're supposed to do when you've got a boy tied up with no shirt or shoes."

"I'm not tickling you; you will tell me the truth regardless. Now Danny told me he heard something hit the house you were in last night. Did someone come see you?"

"Yeah, Alex did. She hid under the bed when Danny Boy came looking."

Ben was not pleased. "What did she want?"

"She wanted to know what was going to happen to her in the future."

"And what did you tell her?"

"That she's going to be killed by some bad guys sent by Chucky Widmore. And that you could have stopped it, but didn't."

"What?!" Ben was very upset. "I would never let that happen if I could stop it."

"You were protecting the island. But you did, or you will again. Unless …"

"Unless what? You have to tell me."

"I think she can be okay if you let her leave through the Orchid."

"How do you know that?"

"I sort of heard Jacob suggest it. But she'll probably need me to help turn the wheel. I don't know everything about how it works."

Ben got annoyed. "Why does Jacob talk to you, and not me?"

"Because I'm special, I guess."

Ben frowned, and then asked, "Did you two talk about anything else?"

"I told her about her mother, and Alex also asked about Karl and Juliet. Karl and Danielle get killed too, and Juliet stays stuck on this island."

"Why did you lie to me before, and say you didn't see anyone last night?"

"Because I didn't want them getting into trouble. Also you might try to stop them from leaving."

Ben had a lot to think about. _It was fortunate to get so many truthful answers so quickly._

"Was there anything else?"

"No, that was it."

"Then thank you for your cooperation. Good night."

"Hey, are you going to leave me like this all night?"

Ben looked down at the helplessly spread-eagled boy, squirming ineffectively.

"Yes. Remember what Dr. Ethan said, about sleeping on a hard surface and not moving in your sleep?"

"Oh yeah." Walt suddenly burst out laughing. "Ha ha, this is funny. Reminds me of when I was with Danielle."

"Whatever you say. Now listen. You are under the influence of a drug. It will wear off in an hour, but you might have a reaction and need to be restrained to keep from hurting yourself. In the morning when you wake, you will not remember this conversation. You will only remember that you had to sleep like that so as to not aggravate your rash."

"Okay."

Ben left, and Walt somehow fall asleep without being bothered by the drug.

The next morning, September 21, 2004, Walt woke up with no ill effects from the drug, possibly with an assist from Jacob. Ben unstrapped Walt, and asked, "How are you feeling? You know why you were down here?"

"Because of that stupid rash. I feel better now."

"Good. It's time for your journey."

They went up and met Richard, and after a quick meal, Richard and Walt set out for the Black Rock. Richard was in his usual casual clothes, a blue short-sleeve shirt and tan pants, and carrying a large pack, while Walt was still in his brief loincloth. Walt offered to carry some of the food, but Richard wouldn't hear of it.

"This is the way Jacob wants it."

"How do you know so much about Jacob?"

Richard wasn't going to give away much.

"Let's just say I've known him for a very long time."

"Well, what is he? Sometimes he seems like a ghost, and other times those particles feel so real."

"That is something that is better for Jacob to tell you himself."

"So Jacob is going to tell me everything in that Black Rock?"

"Definitely. It will be time for you to know everything."

Walt was finally going to get more answers, though it would be one more day.

"So what about you? What's your deal?"

Richard answered vaguely.

"I help look after the Island. Protect it from people who would misuse its resources."

* * *

During the day, Ben thought about confronting Alex and Juliet, and Karl if necessary. Then he realized that if Walt was with Richard near the Black Rock, there was no way the donkey wheel could be turned. Ben certainly wasn't going to do it, and no one else had the ability. _What I am worried about? So what if that plane crashes. We can get rid of the survivors and go back to normal._

When night fell, Richard and Walt were half a kilometer from the Black Rock. "We'll go there first thing in the morning," announced Richard. "You get some sleep; you will need it. I'll watch over you."

Walt didn't have much choice. Whatever powers he may have had didn't include seeing in the dark. He curled up against a tree, grateful that he wasn't tied up or in a cage. Walt fell asleep quickly, and Richard dozed off a couple hours later. Richard hadn't meant to, but he and Walt both heard a deep voice in their dreams.

"The radiation levels over the Swan are falling, but are still powerful enough to bring down the airplane. You must delay the flight as much as possible."

* * *

That same evening, Frank Lapidus was in a Sydney bar, staring into the bottom of the glass of his first drink. His vision blurred, and it looked like black smoke was swirling in his eyes. A strange voice sounded in his head.

"Frank Lapidus, you must stop drinking now. You must be fit to fly tomorrow. We need the best possible pilot."

Frank mumbled. "What? Are you saying hundreds of lives are at risk if I'm not there?"

"At least hundreds. Possibly the entire population of the planet. Now go home."

Frank was spooked. The voice sounded truthful, but maybe Frank already had enough to drink. He paid his tab and went home, wondering what was going on.


	36. Jacob's Story

At long last, Jacob tells his life story to Walt face to face.

* * *

Morning came on the day of September 22, 2004. Richard and Walt ate from the provisions Richard had brought along, and then traveled the last half kilometer to the Black Rock. Walt felt a chill as they entered through the hole in the hull, much as he had when he had found the ship on his walkabout. Almost immediately a swirl of black smoke came in through cracks in the timbers, and formed a figure of just about the same color. The figure soon clarified somewhat into that of an old man, with a long beard. Due to the lack of contrast it was hard to tell what he was wearing, though the shirt and pants looked very ragged to Walt. As the face came more into focus, Walt thought that more than anyone else he could think of, it resembled an aged version of Michael.

The figure spoke in a much more natural voice than before. "Good morning, gentlemen. Thank you, Richard, for bringing Walter here."

"It was my pleasure, Jacob. It's good seeing you again. Anything I can do, just please let me know."

"You must leave us, and take care of business back at the village."

"I understand, Jacob. Good-bye."

Richard went back through the hole in the hull, leaving Jacob and Walt alone. Walt had been too overwhelmed to speak or move. When Richard was well out of earshot, Jacob pointed to a wall and commanded,

"Walt, you will shackle yourself to that bulkhead."

Walt could not help but obey in the presence of Jacob's aura. Walt calmly strode to where Jacob was pointing, where there were pairs of manacles bolted to the wall each with a single link of chain, near the floor and over Walt's head, each pair at shoulder width apart. Walt turned around with his back to the wall, bent down, and locked a manacle around his right ankle, and then his left ankle. Straightening up, he then adjusted his loincloth while he had the chance. Then he reached up, getting on his toes, and used his left hand to snap a manacle shut around his right wrist. Next, he reached up with his left hand toward the last manacle, and realized he couldn't use his right hand to close it since that hand was already locked in place. Walt snapped out of his trance-like state.

"Hey, I can't do the last one by myself."

Walt looked into Jacob's eyes, and Jacob's stare froze Walt's soul. _I must not disappoint Jacob._ Walt got up on his tiptoes and placed the back of his left wrist in the last manacle. He craned his neck to see how it was mounted. With just a single chain link between the manacle and the bolt in the wall, there was very little leeway, but Walt found he could rotate his wrist and make the open link of the manacle bounce off the wall. His first three efforts met with failure, but on the fourth attempt the link rebounded with enough force to close around his left wrist.

"Ha! I did it!"

Walt beamed as he lowered himself down onto his heels. The manacles over his head were set at a height so that he could just keep his weight on his heels, with his arms stretched straight up and a slight straightening of his spine. A warm glow suffused throughout Walt's body, as if he were meant to be there. Walt cheerfully noticed Jacob smile.

Then after a minute, Walt snapped. _What did I just do? I chained myself up?_ Alarmed, Walt struggled in his bonds. He figured the old ship might have weak bulkheads, but that proved not to be the case, at least where he was fixed in place. There was very little freedom of movement, only a few centimeters. After another minute Walt gave up and stood still, and glared at Jacob. Jacob rather walked up to and around Walt, eyeing him studiously. Walt felt like he was being inspected at a slave market, and his mind wandered. _At least_ _I should bring a good price._ Then Walt shook his head violently and let out his anger.

"Why do I have to be in these shackles!"

"Because those are the shackles that brought me to this Island, and you need to experience what I experienced."

"What? Who are you? What are you?"

Jacob waited for Walt to calm down.

"You can best think of me as a material manifestation of Jacob's spirit. As for my history, I was born in 1837 in what now is Guinea. In 1845, the Black Rock set sail from England. It was purportedly on a trading mission to Siam, but its real purpose was to trade in slaves, a practice illegal in the British Empire by that time. A month later a raiding party captured many men and boys of my tribe. I was the youngest by several years, but did not get special treatment. We were all put in chains, and I was shackled hand and foot just as you are now."

Walt wasn't so angry now as he listened to Jacob's tale. He looked down the length of his body, and asked, "So that means all you had to wear was a little loincloth? Did you tell Richard to make this? It could have been a bit bigger."

"It was always hot in my village, so there was never any need to wear more than that. That size may have been more appropriate for me at the time, when I was but eight. We'll get to Richard a little later."

"Okay, but if this was a slave ship, was it headed for America? How did it get in the middle of the Pacific?"

"We were headed for America. Then something happened no one could explain. There was a great flash of purple light, and the next thing anyone knew the Black Rock was grounded this far inland on this Island. I know now that someone, an original inhabitant of this Island, turned the donkey wheel, and moved the Island underneath this ship, at a location in the middle of the Atlantic. The impact killed many of the crew and my fellow villagers, but I survived with minor injuries, as did the man in charge of the mission, a very ruthless fellow named Lucifer Alpert."

Jacob paused to see if the name meant anything to his captive audience, but it didn't.

"Lucifer Alpert and his crew found this Island deserted, and then made me and my tribe mates their slaves."

Walt wiggled his fingers and toes. His position was getting uncomfortable.

"Look, I'm sorry you had such a bad time, but can you please unchain me? I promise not to run away or hurt you or anything."

"You have yet to fully experience what you must."

Now Walt was getting annoyed. With nothing to lose, he erupted. "That's your answer for everything! Don't you know what I've been through? Why are you doing all this crazy stuff to me? Like knocking me out, and tying me up by that long grass? Do you know what it feels like to wake up all tied down naked and spread-eagled on the ground?"

Jacob took a step back, and looked disappointed in the outburst. Then he replied, "As a matter of fact, I do. That happened many times, and those were the good days."

"What!" Walt's chest was heaving, putting more strain on his arms and back.

Jacob calmly explained, "After the crash, when I was released from those shackles, I attacked Lucifer Alpert. It was foolhardy, but I was young and didn't understand all that was going on and the consequences. I punched him in the kidney and kicked him in the ankle, breaking a bone and giving him a permanent limp. Of course he fought back, and my loincloth got ripped off in the struggle. That appeared insignificant as he was able to grab me, and was in all probability going to kill me for my insolence, when his eight-year old son Richard intervened."

Walt settled down, as it looked like Jacob expected him to make a connection.

"Richard … Alpert? Is that our Richard's last name? Are they related?"

"Yes, and you could say that they are related."

Jacob paused to see if Walt could guess the exact relationship, but Walt did not. Jacob continued,

"Lucifer had brought Richard along to show him the ways of the family business, but Richard was the opposite of his father. Richard's eyes had displayed guilt when he looked at me chained to the bulkhead. As his father was hitting me, Richard begged Lucifer to let him have me as his own slave. While Richard and I were the same age, the practice was not unheard of as a way of teaching the next generation how to run a plantation. It warmed Lucifer's cold heart to see his only son take such an interest, and he agreed, with conditions. I would work for Lucifer whenever he wanted me, and do Richard's bidding at other times. As punishment for hitting Lucifer, I would have to sleep with my hands and feet chained every night. And since Lucifer considered me such a savage, I was deemed unworthy of wearing clothes. I didn't get to replace my loincloth, and I wound up spending the next eight years naked."

Walt gulped. "Eight years? How did you … manage?"

"There was nothing I could do about it, so I got used to it. Like you did on your walkabout."

"Well, yeah, but there was no one to see me, so that was different."

"In any case, it was something of another common experience for us. Now in my case, if I behaved, I got to sleep shackled to four stakes salvaged from the ship that they pounded into the ground."

Walt winced. "That Lucifer was sure one bad dude. If sleeping like that was a good day, what was a bad day … or maybe I don't want to know?"

"You must know. If I did anything Lucifer found suspicious, like running away or not working fast enough, he found different sleeping accommodations for me. I would be tied to a tree, or suspended from a branch, either right-side-up or upside-down. And sometimes I got hogtied. Richard did his best to alleviate my discomfort, and often gave me food or water, and treated cuts and small wounds, but had to be careful to keep up the act in case his father or some of the other crew was around."

A look of comprehension came over Walt's face. "So that's why you did all those things to me – because they happened to you?"

Jacob nodded. "I only got through it all because of Richard. He taught me English, and I caught on quickly. As we got older, Lucifer entrusted more of my care and punishment to Richard. This worked well, as it saved me from getting whipped very much like the other slaves suffered, and Richard could avoid tying me too tightly, though I would act like I was in great discomfort in front of Lucifer. When Richard and I were eleven he showed off to his father by ordering me to shackle myself spread-eagled to the ground, and I had to bounce the last manacle off the ground like you did a little while ago. Lucifer laughed at the result, when I squirmed and couldn't free myself, and never suspected we were up to anything."

"That still sounds pretty bad, but I see it could have been worse. Wait, I got stuck in mud or quicksand an unusual number of times. What was up with that?"

"Lucifer was very interested in exploring the Island when he found out how hard it was to leave. He had this brilliant idea of when we came to a swampy spot, to send me in first. If I made it through, the rest would follow. But if I got stuck, he would leave me there and look for another way around. It happened some to the other slaves too, but Lucifer really had it in for me since I was the one who had attacked him. Also, after some heavy rainfalls, he would order me to walk into an area near our camp that would become filled with deep soft mud. Sometimes I had to climb out onto a branch, hang by my hands for as long as I could, and then jump in. He got a kick out of watching me sink, and struggle, and get stuck. At least when I wasn't wearing or carrying anything I wouldn't sink too far, anywhere between my waist and chest, but that was enough to be really stuck."

"It figures you got stuck a lot too. That was so annoying, having to wait for the ground to firm up."

"Actually, it was better than having to work all day, and Richard would toss food and water casks to me. Often he would end up handing me a shovel after a day or two and I'd have to dig myself out with that when I couldn't with my bare hands. Sleeping that way wasn't so bad either compared to my other options, so I would pretend to Lucifer that I hated it more than I really did. Once I didn't, and he ordered Richard to set a log down near me, and push me in up to my neck with my arms at my sides. I was too scared to move after that, and Lucifer wouldn't let Richard help me out for three days, though he was allowed to feed me."

"That Lucifer guy sounds real sick."

"That he certainly was. Of course most days I had to work all the time, but we were there a long time and there wasn't always something to do, and Lucifer had to have his entertainment."

Walt recalled more incidents. "Was getting tangled up in vines part of that?"

"Close. There was plenty of rope from the ship, and Richard would tie me up with that, and leave me to flop around on the ground for hours. Sometimes I could hop around a little. Again it was an act, with me pretending it hurt more than it did."

Walt stood on his tiptoes, trying to relieve the strain on his arms. After half a minute the arches on his feet started feeling sore, and he settled back on his heels. It was clear that Jacob was going to keep Walt in the manacles as long as he wished, and Walt had another question he had to ask, and phrased it calmly so as to not antagonize Jacob again.

"So I understand you had a terrible life, and wanted someone to know about it. But … why me? What makes me so special?"

Jacob paused, and again stepped up to and in front of Walt, giving Walt the impression he was being examined again. Jacob smiled for a moment, as if the nearly naked shackled boy passed inspection, and stepped back.

"I shall continue with my story. After eight years of living on this Island, Lucifer's crew found the donkey wheel under the Orchid station. The station had been damaged, and a lot of digging was required. As I was sixteen by then, I was doing my fair share of the work. Since we didn't know how the wheel worked, Lucifer had one of the slaves push it one-eighth of a turn. He disappeared in a burst of purple light, and the Island moved through space, landing in Lake Eyre of Australia, though we didn't know it at the time.

For some reason Lucifer was suspicious of me, and had me chained to a tree outside. But the other surviving slaves used this as a distraction. Seeing their friend vanish, they reasoned that anything was better than this for them. Together, they turned the wheel some more together, and they all disappeared, and the Island moved again, this time to its present location. However, during the few minutes we were in Australia, a naked fourteen-year-old Aboriginal girl on her walkabout had stepped across a small strait from the mainland to the Island, and had been carried along.

Attracted by the noise, she came to the camp, and saw me. I was stunned to see her. There had been no women on the ship, as Lucifer thought that meant bad luck, and Wyuna, as her named turned out to be, was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. Unfortunately she was made a slave as well. Richard, though, convinced Lucifer that it was time Wyuna and I were allowed something to wear, and for the next few years we did have good grass skirts.

Four years later, we had a baby boy, that we named Tomba. It looked like we were all going to live the rest of our lives on the Island as no one dared turn the wheel again. However, two years later, some of the crew found the correct heading to leave the Island. It took some time to find their way back, but now there was communication with the outside world. Soon after that, in 1859, catastrophe struck. Lucifer, never having forgotten my attack on him fourteen years previously, sold Tomba for a high price to a plantation owner in the American south, a man named Roderick Dawson."

Walt trembled at the mention of the surname and the possible implications.


	37. The Replay of Flight 815

Jacob finishes his story, and Flight 815 departs with a few changes.

* * *

Jacob continued his tale. Walt would have stood transfixed even if he hadn't been locked in place with his hands still chained high over his head.

"Young Tomba was forced to adopt his master's last name, and a line of Dawsons was started. He was a small child during the American Civil War, four years old when it began and eight when it ended. He then grew up in an orphanage, and lived to marry and have a son named Joseph in 1890. Joseph grew up, married, and in 1923 became the father of Walter. I trust you can take it from there?"

The reason why Jacob looked like an aged Michael to Walt had become clear. He twisted his arms and legs all he could, trying to alleviate the increasing ache, before responding, "Walter Dawson married a woman named Noreen, and they had a boy Michael, and he had a son with Susan Lloyd, though they never married so the son got the mother's last name."

"Very good, Walt."

"So … you're my … great-great-great-grandfather? That's why you're so interested in me?"

"That, and the fact that you are the last of my line. After Lucifer sold Tomba, Wyuna could never have another child. More than anything else I wanted revenge on Lucifer, who kept us as his personal slaves. He was usually busy trying to exploit the fantastic energy source by the Orchid, and brought in scientists to try to figure it out. Lucifer always kept the approach and departure angles secret so no one else could find this Island.

One day some experiment revealed a way to harness the fantastic energy. However, it was somewhat out of control, and there was a big explosion, knocking all the scientists out. Fortunately for me, it broke the chain that had been securing me a tree. I took my chance, and jumped Lucifer. In the ensuing fight he got a shot off, which shot off the little toe on my left foot. But that only increased my rage, and I strangled him with my bare hands. I threw him down a shaft, propped him up against the donkey wheel, and gave it a big push. He disappeared, and the world was a better place for it.

When I got back out, I had to face Richard. I didn't know what to expect, but he was amazingly calm. He realized how important it was to keep the Island's secret safe from the wrong hands. Consequently we and Wyuna stayed on, and Richard occasionally brought in people he found he could trust on visits to civilization.

In 1882 Wyuna passed away, and I couldn't go on. The only thing I wanted to was lie next to her for all eternity, and on this Island that was quite possible. I selected a secluded spot in a cave for our burial site. With nothing to live for, I volunteered for a dangerous experiment Richard had devised. Some black smoke had been leaking from a crack down in the Orchid. I took a torch down to investigate, and before I knew it there was another big explosion. Just before I died the particles somehow got in my brain, and absorbed my conscious thoughts. Richard was nearby, and the explosion had quite an amazing affect on him. He reported that he was swarmed by the smoke, but when it cleared, the aging process had completely disappeared from his system. He has remained on this Island most of the time since."

Jacob finally stopped, and let Walt take the information in.

"So … our Richard now is the same as that one? You mean he's … 167 years old?"

"Yes, that is correct. It is he who has been the Island's Guardian since my death, but it is time for a new one. Once one is chosen, he can begin to age normally, and have a normal life. He dared not get involved and love anyone, as they would grow old while he wouldn't, but would like the chance. Also, now do you see why he recognized you?"

Walt hesitated, not quite reasoning it out. "He still had never seen me."

"Perhaps this will help. This is how I looked at your age. Fourteen years and a month, I believe."

Walt's jaw dropped as Jacob's form morphed into one that could be Walt's twin, though this Jacob had neither a loincloth nor shackles on. Walt then turned his face away. Jacob then changed back into the old version.

"Do not be alarmed; when I was your age I had been constantly naked for six years, and would have two more to go. But the important thing is that blood lines run very thick in this family."

"Uh, yeah, sure. So that's why Richard reacted like he did. But … you said you were buried in a cave? Was that …?"

"Yes, those were Wyuna's and my skeletons that you found during your walkabout. Richard put us in more contemporary clothes, before laying us side by side forevermore."

Walt remembered something else. "That statue … with four toes. What was that about?"

"After I was gone, I communicated with Richard as a test. I instructed him to have the Island's occupants build a statue of me, the way I appeared when I died for historical accuracy."

Walt realized something else. "That walkabout … was that so that I would experience something she did?"

Jacob nodded again. "That is correct. You underwent many of my experiences, so it was only fitting that you undergo one of her important experiences, under the same conditions."

"You mean walking around all over the place in the nude alone for forty-two days? It felt weird at first, but then it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. It does help me understand my heritage. It also feels great to have passed those tests. Uh … what would have happened if I didn't?"

Jacob's face took a more serious tone. "The world has not developed as it should since I died. There are still wars, corruption, and hatred everywhere. In the years since I passed on I found that I can do all sorts of incredible things in the black smoke form. Among them are accelerating the demise of the planet. I decided that if the last of my line was unworthy, then mankind didn't deserve to live on the earth. There shall not be an earth with none of my descendants walking upon it."

Shocked, Walt recoiled all he could. "Isn't that a big overreaction? Sure there are problems, but it's not that bad."

"It's not that good. I believe a future civilization could appreciate the planet more than the current one."

"Does that mean … you helped things go bad in the world I came from? In 2008?"

"As I said before, I merely accelerated things. That world is falling apart as we speak. But because of you, mankind may get another chance."

* * *

June 18, 2008: In separate buildings, Charles Widmore and Eloise Hawking woke to the worst earthquake in history. A magnitude eleven quake shook the San Andreas Fault, and a large chunk of California fell into the Pacific Ocean, taking them with it. Much of Greenland, Antarctica, and the snows of Kilimanjaro melted. Brush fires raged out of control in the Amazon and Siberia. A tsunami swept across the western Pacific, devastating Polynesia, Micronesia, Melanesia, and Indonesia. Vesuvius erupted, spewing thick ash over much of Europe. Several nuclear power plants worldwide malfunctioned, some shutting down, but others releasing deadly radiation into the atmosphere. Communication satellites fell out of orbit, and power grids were knocked out all over the globe. Pandemonium broke out everywhere in what could be man's last day on Earth.

* * *

September 22, 2004: Walt was so awestruck by Jacob's story he forgot where he was. After another minute the aching in his arms reminded him. He craned his neck upward to look at his manacled hands, and then back to Jacob. "My arms are getting pretty sore. How long do I have to stay in these?"

Jacob took a slow look at his prisoner. "That depends. Are you sure you do not wish to remain here and be the Guardian of the Island?"

Walt looked exasperated. "Yes, I'm sure."

"Then you have to remain here until your plane arrives."

Walt did not want to spend the rest of his life on the island, but knew someone who would. "I'm sorry if I'm disappointing you, but I have another life now. The perfect person for that is John Locke. I know he's dead, but what about the one that's coming here on the plane today? How does that work?"

Jacob paced back and forth.

"Again, it depends on how strongly you and your friends care about each other. If the connections are strong enough, then their essences from 2008 may migrate into their bodies of 2004. "

"What does that mean? The last four years will be wiped out?"

"No, all of your and their memories will remain intact, although it will take a little time for you all to remember them. They will remember things up to their present, or to the date of their death, for those who perished after the flight."

"So … if this works, my mind goes back into my ten-year-old body? I don't like the sound of that."

"In your case, you had better appreciate that. I suppose your associates failed to inform you that your current body will succumb to radiation poisoning in a matter of weeks?"

Walt shook his head, finding it hard to believe things could get worse. "What?! No, they didn't tell me. Hey, can you cure me?"

"I could, provided you live out your life here."

"No, I got to try this. So, what is going to happen if this works?"

"If the transfer process is successful, then someone must still turn the donkey wheel in order to protect the Island. The only possibilities are yourself and John Locke.  
This must be done within forty-two hours of the arrival of your plane."

"I'll do it then. Can I take someone with me?"

Jacob regarded Walt with more admiration on this occasion.

"You are indeed endowed with a noble spirit. There are those who do not truly belong on this Island. You may take them along, but they have to be touching you as you turn the wheel. I presume you are referring to Alex, Karl, and Juliet?"

"Yes … and Danielle. Can you also restore her sanity?"

Jacob showed surprise. "You wish to bring along the woman who kept you in chains for several weeks?"

Walt stood his ground. "Yes, I do. It wasn't her fault, and she deserves to know her daughter. I forgive her. And besides, you're doing the same thing keeping me in chains." Walt rattled the shackles a little.

Jacob frowned, considered, and then his face took on a more neutral expression.

"If you keep your end of the bargain, it shall be done. Now, when you have assembled your friends at the Orchid, you must give the wheel one complete turn, so that the Island will be sent far into the future."

"How far?"

"We shall see. Perhaps up to 108 years."

"That should keep it safe for a long time."

Walt and Jacob stood in silence for a minute, and then Walt asked,

"So what should I do now? Did you tell me something about delaying the flight as much as possible, so that the radiation levels could fall enough?"

"You wait for your plane to arrive. And do all you can do to delay it."

Jacob began to dissolve into a cloud of black smoke. Walt protested,

"Come on, can't you unchain me now? What more can I do? And after all, I am your great-great-great-grandson."

"You must remain there, in a stressful position. It is the only way you can help now. Try to contact your friends who flew with you in 2008. They are the only ones who might make contact with those they know in 2004. One cannot make contact with oneself in this manner, but only with someone they knew before the departure."

Walt remembered something. "I remember, something Ben said that Locke said that a guy named Daniel told him, about constants."

"That is correct. I must leave; I have work to do. Good luck."

The black smoke seeped through cracks in the timbers of the hull of the Black Rock, the way it had come. Walt became less comfortable, now that he was alone and still shackled to the bulkhead.

"Hey Jacob, can't you stick around and talk more?"

There was no answer.

"Richard, are you out there? Jacob's gone."

Still no answer. Walt closed his eyes, half-expecting this to be a dream. He clenched his fists, figuring that driving his fingernails into his palms might wake him up. But he was definitely awake, stretched out, ninety-nine percent nude, and shackled hand and foot to the wall. What made it most annoying was that he had shackled himself up. He strained at his bonds, and was frustrated that he was secured to a solid place of an otherwise dilapidated vessel.

_Okay, this is for real. How long till the plane comes? It leaves at 2:15, and it was about eight hours – oh no, there's a time zone difference. What's that, another six hours? I'm going to be here till next morning!_

Walt let out a growl of frustration, and then concentrated, "_If anyone can hear me, delay Flight 815. I am not going to stand here for another twenty-three hours for nothing!_

The hours passed, and Walt became increasingly agitated. He got up on his tiptoes, and shook his hands and feet, anything to alleviate the dull ache spreading through his body. Every time, after a few minutes his strength would give out, and he would settle back on his heels, his spine stretched with his arms straight over his head. For some reason this was more annoying than the other times he had been trussed up, because of the length of time and the fact that he couldn't really relax, like when he was on his back. Even being hogtied by Danielle wasn't so bad since he could move and had a chance to free himself by finding the handcuff key.

Eventually darkness came. Trapped inside the ship, no light struck Walt's eyes, and he might as well have been blindfolded. Calculating that it was about departure time for Flight 815, he made one last attempt: "_If anyone can hear me, delay Flight 815!"_ He then relaxed, though his body stayed in place due to the position of his shackles. All that moved was his chin dropping onto his chest. He passed out, wondering what it would be like when, or if, he woke up.

* * *

The group of survivors enveloped in the black smoke felt something indescribable. Then the smoke formed one last image, of Walt shackled to the interior bulkhead of the Black Rock.

"Oh the poor kid!" exclaimed Kate. "Can't he ever catch a break?"

"Quiet," demanded Ben. "Can you sense something?"

Hurley chipped in, "Yeah dude, it's like … he's trying to tell us something. Can't tell what."

A voice that had been silent all the time in the black cloud spoke up. Richard had been taken aboard the freighter with Sawyer, Juliet, and the others left behind, but had nothing to say until this point. "I believe he's telling us to delay the original plane flight."

"I think that's right," added Sun. Soon Jack, Kate, and Sayid were agreeing.

"Remember your constants, that I told you about on the flight to Chad? It sounds like it may be enough just to remember the person before the flight departed."

"Sure, I remember seeing Walt at the start of the flight," said Hurley.

"Of course, Jin is my constant," contributed Sun.

"The best I can do is Rose," commented Jack. "We didn't talk much, though."

"Any little bit may help," encouraged Richard, who was starting to take charge.

Kate added, "The only one I knew was that Marshal Mars. If it will help, I'll try."

"I'm afraid I won't be of help here," remarked Sayid. "I did not talk to anyone before the flight. I barely got on because someone reported me as a possible terrorist when I left a bag near her …" An image flashed through Sayid's mind. "Wait, that was Shannon! I did speak to her."

"Very good. Now everybody concentrate, "do whatever it takes to delay the flight."

September 22, 2004: At 2:14 pm Sydney time, a panting and sweating Hurley was the last to board Oceanic Flight 815. He spotted Walt playing his Game Boy, smiled, and gave the youngster a thumbs up sign. Walt smiled back, and meant to resume his game, but his mind was thinking, _Why did he give me that sign?_

At 2:15 pm, Flight Attendant Cindy Chandler announced that Oceanic 815 was about to depart. She reminded the passengers to make sure their seat belts were fastened, and sat down and strapped herself in her chair at the front of the business class section. Walt's mind was still buzzing, and looking up, saw Hurley occupying two seats a few rows away reading a comic book. Then the thought struck: _I have to delay the plane!_

When Michael's head was turned, Walt quietly unbuckled his seatbelt, and then leaped out of his seat, jumping over Michael.

"Walt, what are you doing!?" Michael grabbed for Walt's arm, but Walt knocked it away with his other arm, and broke free as Michael was still strapped in by his seatbelt.

"I have to go!" offered Walt as explanation as he bolted down the aisle and into a lavatory, slamming the door shut and locking it behind him.

Cindy saw the commotion and notified the captain, Frank Lapidus, with an intercom located in the wall by which she had been sitting, that a passenger had jumped up and was not in his seat. As airline regulations stipulated that a flight must not depart under these circumstances, Frank took his hand off the throttle and let the plane idle. He grumbled, and then thought about the voice he had heard the night before, and wondered if this could be related.

Shannon looked back to see what was going on. She was about to complain to Boone, sitting next to her, when she spotted Sayid several rows behind her. Something buzzed in her head. _I have to help that kid delay this plane._ She frantically searched for her inhaler, and didn't find it. "Boone, quick, give me my inhaler!"

Boone already had the inhaler for Shannon's asthma in his hand, anticipating her request. What he did not expect was for Shannon to drop it in the aisle, as if on purpose. She bent over to pick it up, just as Cindy was hurrying down the aisle. Cindy tripped over Shannon and fell in a heap.

Shannon apologized profusely, explain, "I'm so sorry, I have asthma and I need that." She reached down for it, and pushed it under the seat across the aisle. She got out of her seat, both to help Cindy up, and then block her and JD, the male flight attendant who had help carry Locke onto the plane, from getting past her in the aisle as Shannon then got on her hands and knees, groping for the inhaler. The incident took a good two minutes, much longer than had been necessary. Shannon finally got back in her seat.

"That was mighty clumsy of you," remarked Boone. "And I've never heard you apologize so much. What's gotten into you?"

"I … I just felt like I had to. I don't know if you can understand."

"Shan, you're acting crazy..." Boone followed Cindy's progress, and noticed Locke sitting glumly in another seat. He shook his head, trying to clear it. "Uh … that's all right. Sometimes you just have to do stuff."

Jin held Sun's hand, and gazed into her eyes. They both smiled, and then the buzzing rang through Jin's head. _I have to help delay the departure._

JD helped Cindy, who had been shaken up, back to her seat. "Cindy, are you all right? Let me take care of this."

"I'm okay, that was just strange. I guess that woman has a serious condition of some sort."

As JD strode down the aisle, Jin grabbed the folded plastic card with the emergency instructions written on it from the back of the seat cushion in front of it. Just as JD passed by, Jin dropped it, unfolded, onto the floor, causing JD to slip and fall. Jin acted mortified and sprang out of his seat, helping JD up, and blocking his way while apologizing profusely – in Korean. After a minute of animated conversation where neither man understood anything the other said, JD put his hands on Jin's shoulders and guided him back into his seat.

Sun was alarmed, asking in Korean, "Jin, are you all right?"

Of course also in Korean, Jin responded, "I will be, as long as we stay together. I promise I'll never leave you."

During the exchange, Michelle, the female flight attendant who had helped JD carry Locke on board, caught up. She picked up the fallen flight information card and stuffed it back in the seat cushion pocket where it belonged. She then followed JD to the lavatory door. JD rapped loudly on the door.

"Young man, you have to get out of there."

"Leave me alone! Just give me a minute!"

Michelle told JD that she would speak to the boy's father, and went around to the other aisle to speak to Michael. But before she got there she was interrupted by Marshal Edward Mars. _This ringing in my ears … I have to ask her something._

"Ma'am, what is the problem?"

Michelle did not appreciate being interrupted, but this man had a look of authority on him.

"Just a child ran into the lavatory. Sorry about the delay of your flight. It will be taken care of quickly."

"Well, if there's trouble and I can help, just let me know."

Michelle moved on, and Kate, in handcuffs, glared at the Marshal sitting next to her.

"What's the matter, you have to be in charge of everything? Need an extra set of cuffs for the kid?"

"Just shut up. I just felt like I needed to ask."

Michelle finally reached Michael. "Sir, that is your son in there right? Could you please help us talk him out?"

"I'm sorry about my son. He's upset about moving to the United States with me, and I'm not sure he'd even listen to me."

"Please try sir; we prefer not to have to jimmy open the lock."

Michael got up, and followed Michelle, but was interrupted by Rose. She was sitting between Bernard on her right, and Jack across the aisle on her left. _This sound in my head – I have to interfere._ "Please don't be too hard on the child. I think he's really scared."

Michael didn't appreciate the interference of a stranger, but this was not a good time to snap. _He should be scared of me after pulling this stunt. _"Yes ma'am, sorry about his behavior, he's been through a tough time recently. I'll get this over with immediately."

Michael strode off behind Michele, while Rose looked back and forth between Bernard and Jack.

Bernard asked, "Rose, honey, are you okay? You sounded like something came over you."

"I think something did come over me. I can't say what though."

Michael finally got to the lavatory. "Walt, come out of there this instant!"

"Leave me alone! I just need a minute. Geez!"

"If you're not out of there in one minute we're breaking this door down!"

Michael looked at JD. "Is that what we'd have to do?"

"No, I have a key. We can open it from the outside." JD looked at his watch.

A minute later, Michael shouted, "Your minute's up. Open up!"

Walt didn't respond, and JD put his key in the lock. When Walt heard the jiggling of the key, he flushed the toilet, even though he hadn't had to go, and opened the door.

"What is your problem?"

"You are the problem. You went before we boarded, and you're holding up hundreds of people. Now let's get back to our seats." Michael grabbed Walt's arm.

Scrambling for every second, Walt protested, "Shouldn't I wash my hands?"

Michael rolled his eyes. "Make it quick!"

Walt took as much time as he could, even turning the faucet the wrong way while turning it off. Then he was practically dragged back to his seat by Michael, who had to fasten Walt's seatbelt. Michael kept a tight grip on Walt's arm.

Cindy was finally ready for the announcement. "Oceanic Airlines apologizes for the inconvenience. The situation is under control, and there is no need for alarm. We are just fifteen or sixteen minutes behind schedule."

Frank pulled back the throttle and Flight 815 rolled down the runway, and then took off into the air. For six hours the flight was uneventful, and then without warning the radio went completely dead.

"What the ..?" exclaimed Frank as he turned to the copilot sitting next to him.

"I can't believe it. How could that happen?" the copilot Seth wondered, alarmed. "What should we do?"

"We have to make for the nearest airport that will accommodate a plane this size. In this case, that would be Suva, Fiji."

"But that's three hours from here, and way off course!"

"We don't have a choice. We're ten hours from LA. Hang on."

Frank smoothly turned the plane to the north. Over the open ocean at night, none of the passengers realized the change in course. Then as dawn broke, something went horribly wrong.

"The electrical systems are all malfunctioning. Manual control only. We're losing altitude!" As the plane shook, Frank turned on the "Fasten your seatbelts" sign. Everyone was in their seats except for Charlie, who was in a lavatory trying to snort some heroin. She banged on the door, and a few seconds later, Charlie came out, but not before flushing the rest of his stash down the toilet. He staggered to an empty seat, and he and Cindy sat down and strapped themselves in their respective seats. Oxygen masks dropped out of their compartments. Many of the overhead bins opened, and a metal suitcase came flying out of one and hit Edward Mars in the head, knocking him out. Kate took advantage to fish the key to her handcuffs out of his pockets and free herself. Another jolt and the handcuffs went flying somewhere else. The hull of the fuselage groaned, and creaked, and buckled – and barely maintained its integrity.

"We're going to hit that island!" Frank shouted to Seth.

"There's no island here on the charts," remarked the copilot.

"Can't help that. There's no place to land. Brace for impact."

The plane descended toward the middle of the Island.

"Is that a ship down there? How on earth could it have gotten there?"

Frank had no time to answer as Oceanic Flight 815 smashed into the Black Rock. Instantly a tremendous mass of black smoke enveloped the plane and the ship. The smoke expanded rapidly, covering the Island in a matter of seconds. But it didn't stop there. It continued to expand at a phenomenal rate in every direction, and within minutes had covered the Pacific Ocean, and then the surrounding continents, and finally the entire world.


	38. A Time for Heroics

The smoke clears, and the passengers notice things are different. Heroics abound as the plane has problems making it to Fiji.

* * *

The smoke lifted, and Frank and Seth were amazed to find Flight 815 still flying southward, albeit only a few decameters over the ocean, leaving the island behind. The copilot turned to Frank, and asked,

"What just happened?"

"I … don't know. We got some kind of lift back there. There's damage, but this bird can still fly."

"Can we still make it to Fiji?"

"I think so, at least if nothing else happens."

Frank made an announcement.

"Everyone please remain calm. We ran into a lot of turbulence but it looks like things are okay now. However, it will be a bumpy ride, and you must remain in your seats with your seatbelts fastened. We are heading for the nearest available airport, which is in Fiji, about an hour away. Thank you for your cooperation."

Inside the fuselage, there was widespread shock and confusion. The air pressure had stabilized so the oxygen masks were no longer necessary, and when the passengers could talk, they noticed that things were a lot different.

Starting from the front of the passenger section, Shannon turned to Boone, and screamed. Instead of a nice suit he was wearing a blood-soaked greenish sleeveless shirt, yet his face and arms were undamaged. "Boone! What happened to you? How did you get in those clothes?"

"I don't know … Shan, isn't that a bullet hole in your blouse?"

"What?" Shannon looked down, and was mortified to see blood on her clothes, though she herself was undamaged. She blinked. "Wait, there's something strange … do you remember crashing on that island back there?"

Boone looked at his stepsister. "I … think you're right. We lived there for several weeks, didn't we?"

"Yes, that's what I remember, and then … I think you died. But that couldn't have happened; it must have been a dream."

"No, we wouldn't remember the same dream. It's coming back, all these people we knew … but you?"

"I … guess I was shot … by a trigger-happy stranger. Think hard, let's see if we can piece this together."

A few rows back, Charlie was trying to figure out why his clothes were completely soaked. _I must have overdone it on the heroin. It felt like I was drowning. This can't be real. What is going on?_

Kate's handcuffs had flown through the cabin, and locked around the wrists of Nikki and Paolo. Nikki shrieked. "Paolo, where did these come from? Did someone find us out?"

Paolo squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. "I don't know but … there's sand all over in my clothes! How could that have happened?"

Nikki realized the same thing. "Mine too … it's as if we were buried in sand somewhere …" Her face assumed a horrified expression. "Like being buried alive!"

"Buried alive? I don't remember that … I don't remember much of anything. Wait, the diamonds … did we argue … something about spiders …"

"Spiders? Yes … spiders …." Both of them felt like not talking any more, now imbued with a feeling of mutual distrust.

Jack was okay physically, but when he looked to check on Rose and Bernard, he was startled to see two empty seats. He called out to whoever would listen, "Hey, what happened to that couple that was sitting here?" But no one knew. Jack put his hand to his head, as if to alleviate a headache. _There's a lot more to this. We did crash. I couldn't have imagined all that. There was … Kate, and Sawyer, and Locke …_ Jack's head jerked back up. He remembered there was an older bald man sitting not too far away, but his seat was empty, too. Jack put his head in his hands, trying to determine what was real.

Still father back in the main cabin, Michael turned to look at his son, and choked. "Walt, what happened to your clothes?"

"Arrgh!" Walt, in his ten-year-old body, was in just a loincloth that was mostly covered by his seatbelt. His reflex was to try to cover himself up, but confined to his seat there wasn't much he could do. "Hey, that's not what you were wearing."

Michael's plain shirt and pants were in shreds. "What? How did … wait, didn't we crash? Didn't we get to know each other better, more than just a few days?"

Walt was confused. He looked around, and saw that someone else nearby was scantily attired. There was a young woman named Joanna in a wet bikini, and she was totally confused. That made Walt feel a little better, and he responded, "Yes, we did, … you drew pictures for me for my birthdays."

"Those pictures? But I haven't had a chance to show them to you yet. Or … I think you're right, I did. How else could you have known?"

"And there was the raft. Actually two rafts; I burned the first one."

Michael gained some sense of comprehension. "You were kidnapped, and I got you back but …"

"I don't think I want to talk about that."

"That's fine with me. But then what happened to you after …"

"I lived with Grandma for three years, and then went back with the others who got away. A lot of things happened to me on the island, I think I'll remember in a few minutes, but why am I wearing this?"

Walt closed his eyes, and an image came to him. "I was shackled to a wall like this in a ship on the island, a slave ship."

"What? Someone chained you up like a slave? Who would do that?"

Walt tried to remember. "I think I did it myself. But this ghost or something … an ancestor of ours named Jacob, told me to do it. I was left there like a whole day, and I heard the plane coming right toward me, and … now I'm here."

Michael didn't know what to say. Finally, "You must have handled yourself very well; I'm so proud of you. We'll get your clothes from your suitcase when we land."

The ride continued to be bumpy, and no one could be sure that they wouldn't land in the water.

Jin and Sun looked at each other in confusion. While Sun's clothes were nice, Jin's were in tatters. Then Jin realized something. Speaking in Korean, he told Sun, "They're all speaking in English, yet I understand some of it. How can that be?"

Sun replied in Korean, "Because … I taught you? On the Island." Sun was afraid of how Jin would react, but he remained calm. He tried speaking in English.

"Island … we were there …" Some vague memories came back. He leaned over and kissed her. "I love you."

"I love you too."

Some rows further back, Claire was screaming. "How did I get so big? I'm going into labor! Ohhhhh!" She could do no more than grip the armrests of her seat as the flight bounced along.

Back in the tail section, Emma and Zack were crying, too scared to comprehend what might have happened. They just wanted to get home to their mother, and that was far from certain now.

Behind them, Eko was trying to determine what happened to his shirt. Instead of the nice white dress shirt he was wearing before being blinded by the black smoke, he had only a few scraps of a tattered yellow shirt around his shoulders, totally exposing his barrel chest and stomach. _It feels like … I died? But these people around me are alive, aren't they? This must be a sign … but of what?_

Finally, in the last row, Libby and Ana-Lucia had their own concerns. Ana noted that there was a bullet hole in her black tank top. _How did that happen? Was I in a shootout? No … I was on that island … and someone shot me … someone from this plane._ Libby was suddenly wearing a green top, with two bullet holes in it. _Am I going crazy again?_

The plane suddenly lurched more than before, and sputtered. In the cockpit, the copilot Seth asked, "What was that?"

Frank looked at the gauges. "I'm afraid we have a fuel leak. Not surprising after what we ran into back there."

"Does that mean we're not making it to Fiji?"

"We're not going to come remotely close. We have to land anywhere there's land. Check the charts."

Seth pulled out a chart of the region. "Nothing but isolated uninhabited islands. Looks like we're heading for Kiribati waters, but with so many systems out, it's hard to tell."

"There's something!" Frank spotted a small rocky island. "We have no choice." Frank turned the control stick toward the new island. Seth looked at the fuel gauge needle rapidly approaching empty.

"We're not even going to make that island. We're going to crash in the water."

"Not if I can bounce this bird off the surface."

"Are you kidding? That's a thousand to one shot."

"For an average pilot, maybe, but I like my chances. I've got to keep the belly perfectly horizontal."

"But with all the turbulence down here …" Seth saw the determination in Frank's eyes and shut up. Frank fought with the controls, continually making adjustments.

"Brace for impact!" _Again._

The plane smacked the ocean surface half a kilometer from shore – and skipped like a stone. It continued on, and bounced once more fifty meters from shore, and then landed near the edge of the island. It skidded along, its left wing being sheared off by a rock face. The plane careened toward a beach, then toward a forest, with its left side scraping trees along the tree line. And then it came to a stop.

Smoke was filling the cabin as everyone scrambled to get out. Most of the doors on the left side were blocked by trees, and the doors on the right side were jammed because of buckling of the fuselage due to the impact. In the forward part of the aircraft, Boone rushed toward the emergency door that other passengers couldn't get open. An image flashed through his mind, of when Locke had drugged him and tied him to a tree, and he eventually found the strength to reach a knife to cut himself loose. He found a similar burst of strength, and wrenched the door off its hinges. Passengers from business and first class quickly slid down the slide that inflated automatically.

Another emergency exit was stuck in the main part of the cabin. "Make way!" Hurley took charge. He got a short running start, and drove his shoulder into the stubborn door. The door never had a chance. Hurley broke through cleanly and then slid across the intact right wing and onto the beach, while the door also skidded along and barely missed him. Hurley tossed the door out of the way as scores of other passengers followed.

Eko was by far the biggest and strongest passenger in the tail section. The door back there didn't yield on his first three attempts. _Lord, give me strength._ A surge adrenaline flowed through his body as he violently yanked the emergency exit door off its frame. Another slide inflated, and he stepped to the side as Ana-Lucia and Libby ushered Emma and Zack out first, the children in hysterics. The rest followed.

Frank ordered everyone else out, and hurried through the aisles to make sure no one was still on board. Then he ran out over the wing and dropped to the beach.

"Everyone away from the plane! She's going to explode any second." As if on cue, a small fireball erupted from under the mangled cockpit. Everyone moved away, toward the edge of the shore and up or down the beach.

Jack was frantic. There was a lot of screaming, with scores of passengers having significant cuts, sprains, and perhaps a few broken bones. Jack had had to evacuate without any of his medical equipment, frustrating him immensely. In most cases he had to tell his new patients to put pressure on wounds with whatever was available, stray leaves or scraps of clothing. There was one source of penetrating screaming. Jack found Claire lying on the ground, with Charlie hovering over her. _There's a reason they don't let third-trimester pregnant women fly._ Jack still had to do his best. "Try to remain calm, and take deep slow breaths. Now what is your name?"

"It's Claire," was the response, but it came from Charlie. Jack looked up at the musician.

"Are you the father?"

"No, I'm … _What am I?_ … a friend. Charlie."

Jack turned back to Claire. "Are you having contractions? How far apart are they?"

Claire gasped for breath, and the blurted out, "I don't know. I had one a few minutes ago."

That wasn't enough to go on. Jack told Charlie, "I have to check on the others. Guard her, make sure nothing hits her. Let me know if there's any change." Jack wiped his brow and ran over to another man lying on the ground, who turned out to be Edward Mars. The marshal had been helped out of the plane, but was now unconscious with a piece of shrapnel in his abdomen. _This is bad. He really needs to get to a hospital. Have to leave that in there for now._

Once safely away from the plane, Michael hugged Walt hard almost hard enough to break his ribs. "I'm never going to let anyone take you away again."

"Yeah, and I'm sorry for the way I acted. More things are coming back to me." Walt heard the only other two children on the flight crying. "Hey, those two are … almost familiar."

Walt ran over to where Emma and Zack were. When they looked at him, they stopped crying and started laughing. "Hey, what's so funny?"

"You!" Emma pointed at Walt.

"What do you mean me?"

"I mean, what happened to your clothes? If you came on the plane like that we would have noticed."

In the excitement of getting off the plane, Walt had forgotten the plan to retrieve his suitcase and dress more normally. With sporadic bursts of fire from the plane, that looked like it wasn't going to happen. Walt reacted the best he could.

"What's the matter with you? Haven't you ever seen a guy in a loincloth before?"

"Not in real life," Zack responded. "You look real funny."

"Oh shut up," scolded Emma. "I think it looks good on him. What's your name?"

Walt's mind went foggy for a moment. "I'm Walt … and you're Emma, and Zack."

The siblings exchanged glances. "How did you know …" asked Zack.

"We met when I was stuck in the quicksand on the island. Oh wait, that was … I'm sorry, someone planting an image in my mind. Don't you remember being on that other island, that we almost crashed into before this?"

It was Emma's turn to think. "Yes, we were on an island … what happened? Weren't we kidnapped and forced to live with some strange people?"

"You know, you're right," agreed Zack. "It was like a dream, but, no, it really happened. But we didn't see him."

By now Michael came over. "Made some new friends, Walt?"

Walt felt the short answer was best. "Yes, this is Emma and Zack."

Behind the children Michael then saw Ana-Lucia and Libby. There was mutual recognition.

"You … shot … me," accused Ana.

Michael was dumbfounded, and couldn't speak.

"It was him. He shot me too. He killed both of us, right?" Libby stared at Michael accusatorily.

"B-but you're alive … how …"

Hurley now came to the group. He saw Michael, and Libby, bullet holes in her shirt, and tried to put the pieces together. He didn't quite succeed, but it was enough to see Libby in the flesh. He ran up and hugged her, lifting her off the ground. "Libby, it's so great to see you."

Libby had a hard time breathing until Hurley let her down. "Wh-what's going on here. You're … Hurley? But … this is confusing. I thought he …" she pointed at Michael, was now gazing at the aircraft.

From Walt's point of view, it appeared that events unfolded in slow motion, even though Michael suddenly sprinted toward the burning aircraft. His path was blocked by Sawyer, who took it upon himself to keep everyone away from more danger. Thinking by himself on the plane, had done a good job of reconstructing events, but Michael's action surprised him. Sawyer stepped in front of Michael and grabbed his arm, saying, "Mike, don't be crazy. There's nothing there worth …"

Sawyer was cut off when Michael slugged him in the jaw. This caused Sawyer to lose his grip on Michael, and sent staggering back into Jack, knocking them both down. "Is the fool trying to kill himself?" Sawyer spluttered at Jack.

Michael charged on a beeline, obviously focused on a particular point. His run was interrupted by another burst of fire. He was knocked to the side, but sparks singed his hair and set a piece of his torn shirt on fire. Undeterred, he resumed his course and reached the wreckage, at a point near the middle of the fuselage.

And Walt suddenly understood what Michael was up to, and beside himself for not realizing it sooner. Walt's face immediately flooded with terror as he yelled "DAAAAD!" at the top of his lungs. He bolted toward Michael, but before Walt could make one full step Hurley had seized him by the arm. Walt had no chance against the large difference in weight.

"Whoa, little dude, don't get yourself burned alive too." Hurley wished he could have phrased it better, but didn't have time to think. He was as mystified as everyone else except Walt about Michael's behavior.

But on this occasion Michael had as much purpose as he ever had in his life. Bending down, he seized the corner of a cage he recognized made of hard plastic and wire. With his right hand he pulled on it as hard as he could, but most of the cage was partially crushed to the ground by the fuselage. Desperate, he grabbed the edge of a large piece of metal covering the cage with his left hand, and pushed up with his legs with a superhuman effort far beyond what anyone could have expected of him. The result approximated a thousand pound dead lift of no more than a quarter of an inch, but it gave enough room for him to yank the cage out from under the wreckage.

Michael immediately turned around and ran back away from the plane, his progress slowed by the heavy weight carried in his right hand. Then there was a massive fireball that momentarily engulfed him. As he felt the flame reach him he hurled the cage forward as far as he could, dislocating his shoulder in the process. The cage flew through the air and hit Sawyer just as he was getting up.

"Hey! What the …" scowled Sawyer, not recognizing by what he had been hit.

Hurley's jaw dropped as he witnessed Michael's actions, and he unconsciously loosened his grip on Walt's arm. Walt broke loose, sprinted to the cage, undid the latch, and a whimpering and singed yellow Labrador retriever jumped out.

"VINCENT!"

Crying, Walt pushed Vincent onto his back to stamp out the last bit of fire on the dog's fur. Walt then turned his attention to Michael.

Michael had staggered two more steps after the flame engulfed him, and collapsed face first on the sand. Jack and Sawyer rolled him over to beat out the flames, and dragged him farther away from the flaming aircraft. Michael's shirt and pants had been nearly burned off, and completely fell off after being dragged, leaving him in his boxers. Walt ran up, getting stopped by Jack's warning hand.

"Don't touch him, he's badly burned."

"Daaad!" Walt wailed.

In a weak voice, Michael responded "Walt," and then lost consciousness.

Still crying, Walt implored Jack, "You have to do something!"

Jack wanted to do something, but with all the medical equipment on board now destroyed by fire, there was little he could do. "I'm sorry, but I need sterile dressings, and antibiotics to fight off the impending infection. There are second and third degree burns on his back and legs. If he isn't treated within a few hours ..." Jack didn't want to continue. He now remembered Michael and Walt from the first island, and even treating Michael for poisoning. Jack got up, and called out,

"Where is the captain? Where are we?"

Frank came in response.

"I think we're in the Kiribati system, but we're not close to any inhabited islands."

Boone came over, wanting be helpful, but could only offer, "There's no signal on my cell phone."

"No, there wouldn't be here," replied Frank.

"What about the plane's black box?" asked Jack. "Except … it didn't work last time."

"Last time?" Frank was confused, though Sawyer and Boone seemed to understand. "That should bring help eventually. There's no place to land here, so it might take a day or two to get rescued. What we really need is radio communication, but all our equipment is destroyed."

"Many of these people don't have a day," complained Jack. Trying another approach, "What about other flights? Could they find us?"

"This region is not used by any flights," answered Frank dejectedly. "And we're about a hundred miles from any shipping lanes."

Walt sat down on the sand, sobbing and hugging Vincent tightly. "There has to be a boat in the area. There just has to be. There's still work to do."


	39. A Ship on the Horizon

Help arrives as Walt and the other passengers exchange stories, but something doesn't go as planned.

* * *

On the new island many of the passengers were experiencing déjà vu. Most of the passengers didn't remember anything, having been killed in the original crash, but those who survived were putting the pieces together. They knew each other's names, and remembered more and more events on the first island. Then there was more: some of them had gotten off that island, and their lives were miserable, and then they tried to get back … and then the last any could remember was the black smoke. But now Claire was pregnant and Walt about the size when he had been kidnapped, indicating there had been little passage of time during these events.

When Jack had done all he could, which in most cases was leaving the wounded lying on the beach, he turned his attention to Walt. "Now Walt, are you sure you're all right?"

"I feel okay now. Before they said I had a rash and radiation poisoning, but that was when I was older … but Dad …"

"I'm sorry we can't do anything more for him now. But this situation is so unusual, maybe … can you tell us what happened after we left you in – where was it? – Chad? We were captured by Charles Widmore's people, taken back to the Island which was then in the Indian Ocean. Then the Island suddenly vanished and we all ended up surrounded by black smoke. Sometimes there were visions of you, and it didn't look good."

Most of the other passengers who knew Walt converged on him, except for Charlie and Claire, the latter going through the early stages of labor.

"I found that portal Ben told us about." I came up in the Orchid, and followed a parachute drop to near the Swan Hatch, where Desmond was. I lived with him, pushing the button for weeks. Then we decided he should try to sail away and get help, but I forgot to tell him the bearing to get back. That was strange; it was 305 degrees to get there and 325 degrees to leave.

"Anyway, he didn't make it back, and after a few more weeks I got so tired I failed to push the button, and the hatch blew up, or imploded, I don't know. I turned this key Desmond told me to in case of emergency, and it worked, I guess. I woke up at the bottom of a big hole, and thought I was dead at first."

"Man, that's sort of what happened to Desmond," commented Hurley. I don't know about a big hole, but I saw him soon after that, and … had to lend him a shirt."

Walt forced a little laugh. "Oh, I made a grass skirt. It felt stupid at first but I got used to it. And then I got caught in one of Danielle's traps."

"You mean that net?"

"No, I mean, oh you saw that? I was kind of glad no one saw me in that; it was so humiliating. It took like 24 hours to get out, after the rain made the ropes slippery enough to slide around. And then I got stuck in the mud overnight. I meant a rope trap that hung me upside down. I got knocked out and woke up handcuffed to a bed frame in Danielle's bunker."

It was Sayid's turn to speak. "We saw an image of you like that. Did she … jolt you with electricity?"

"No, nothing like that. She thought I was working for the Others and kept me in handcuffs the whole time, about six weeks."

"Six weeks? That's impressive you held up so well. I was her captive for just one day."

"Well, she never hurt me. There was one time she left me handcuffed me to a tree all night, and another time when water dripped on my chest all night and I couldn't get away from that, but other than that it wasn't too bad. She showed me how to survive in the jungle, like what fruit I could eat, and how to get water. She killed a couple of boars, but wouldn't let me handle weapons. I helped reset some of her traps, and test one out. But when it got tough, I would see people, that turned out to be images Jacob made. It helped me get through all that."

Jack spoke up again. "What do you know about this Jacob? We only got vague references to him from Ben."

"Jacob turns out to be my Dad's great-great-grandfather, or his ghost or spirit anyway. He was a slave being brought over on the Black Rock, and there was something about the energy field that preserved his brain function, or something like that. At the same time, it caused Richard not to age after that. I don't understand it completely. He was being sold by Richard Alpert's mean father, when the Island moved under the ship. Jacob had a very rough life, and said I had to experience most of the things he did."

"Richard's father?" Jack paused. "That would explain several things. But back to you, it looks like you had to undergo experiences we had – the spiked ball, and hanging from the cliff, the ditch with the dead bodies, getting put into a sack, and locked in a cage – do you know what that means?"

Walt had to think for a few seconds. "I think Jacob was trying to determine if I had enough of a connection with you all to make sure you were worth saving. So far it looks like it's working, but …" Walt trailed off, worried about Michael.

"So how did you escape from Danielle?" asked Kate, thinking about the handcuffs she had been in on the flight, and those that Walt had been subjected to.

"Oh, one day we were out getting a boar, and a spider bit her, and knocked her out. She hogtied me with handcuffs before she passed out and threw away a key, but I managed to find it and free myself. I put her back in her bunker and ran away. I got chased by a polar bear, and then Jacob made it go away, and then made me go on a 40-day walkabout."

"How could he make you do that?" asked Jack.

"The black smoke grabbed me and tied me upside-down from a tree with vines. With my hands tied tight behind my back there was no way I could get loose. I had to agree to do it, and then he let me get my feet loose, but it took hours for me to find a rock sharp enough to cut my hands loose."

"Did he say why you had to do it?"

"Oh, because his wife was an Aborigine and she had to do it. And I think since she did it naked, I had to also. Or maybe because Jacob said he was kept nude for years as a child. Anyway, the Black Rock crew moved the Island a couple times, and once it landed in a lake in Australia, and she wound up on the Island. It turns out that she and Jacob are the ones whose skeletons you found in that cave. And that four-toed statue was of Jacob, something he wanted his followers to build after he died. His toe got shot off in a fight with Richard's father."

"That's quite a tale. What happened after this walkabout was over?"

"I tried to leave on their boat, but Mikhail captured me, and took me to Ben in that village of theirs. I saw Ben, and Bea Klugh, and Juliet, and Ethan, and none of them recognized me. It was weird. After a couple days Ben and Richard agreed I needed to go to the Black Rock, and that's where I finally saw Jacob. He explained everything to me after he got me to shackle myself to the wall. He said that's how he was brought over, from Guinea."

"That … actually makes some kind of sense. Ben and Locke said all the passengers who got off the Island had to go back, to make things as close as possible to the way there were before, and now Jacob has you re-creating his experiences."

"Yeah, and that explains why I'm wearing this loincloth. Richard made it, having recognized me as Jacob's descendant. It was very tight before, but now I'm younger, and it's a little loose. Anyway, Jacob left me like this for several hours, and then the plane crashed into the Black Rock with me still chained up inside it. Next thing I knew, I was in my seat next to Dad."

"Wait a minute," interrupted Sawyer. "You say Juliet was there on the Island with you, but she was with me, and then in the black smoke … how does that work?"

"I don't know how it works, but she was there when I left. She even gave me a nice haircut, even though Ben insisted I stayed tied to a chair after I attacked him. But I'm supposed to get her off the Island, and Alex, Karl, and Danielle, whose sanity Jacob is supposed to restore. Otherwise things will get worse again, and all this will be for nothing."

There was silence, and then Shannon spoke. "That's so incredible …"

"He's telling the truth, I could tell if he wasn't," immediately replied Sayid. "I had a lot of experience in that in my … field."

"Same here, but different field," agreed Sawyer.

After more silence, Hurley shouted, "Look everybody, there's a boat!"

* * *

Walt had been right: there was a single boat in the area. Twenty kilometers away, Desmond and Penny saw the smoke from the final fireball that engulfed Flight 815. Desmond immediately turned toward the smoke at top speed. Penny didn't question his decision, but did ask,

"Des, did you … know this was going to happen?"

"I expected something to happen, but didn't know what."

"You had a vision, didn't you?"

Desmond couldn't lie to his love.

"Yes, a couple days ago. I saw the boy Walt, and he implored me to take this course, and bring the supplies I got in Hawaii."

Penny shook her head. "And you're sure this is related?"

"It has to be. He said he was in a plane crash, and based on his dates, it should have been today or yesterday. I admit I don't understand a lot of this, but we have to find out."

In less than an hour Desmond and Penny's ship arrived at the beach, to the pleasant surprise and astonishment of the passengers. Frank and Jack went to greet the commander, and Jack's jaw dropped when he saw Desmond.

"Desmond! How did you know to come here?"

Desmond was confused. "Do I know you?"

"The island! I mean … you didn't …"

"Hold it, you do look familiar. Where was it … a stadium, right? California?"

"Oh that, yes. See you in another life. I think this qualifies. But why are you here?"

"I hope you don't think this daft, but I had a dream where a boy told me to sail in this direction, and bring all the medical supplies I could carry and some satellite telephones."

"You have lots of medical supplies!?"

"Sure in these crates."

Jack couldn't believe the good fortune. "Everyone who's not hurt, get these crates off now the boat now!"

There were plenty of volunteers to splash back and forth from the boat, anchored as close to the shore as it could get. Soon Jack was barking orders and treating dozens of the wounded with all sorts of medicines, antibiotics, painkillers, and sterile dressings.

Frank meanwhile asked for one of the phones and made contact with Oceanic Airlines headquarters. He then made his announcement.

"I've reached my company's headquarters, and told them what happened. They know our location. They're sending rescue planes from Hawaii, and they'll be here in the morning."

There was much cheering.

And then Desmond spotted Walt, kneeling by Michael as Jack was treating the burn wounds on his back. Walt had kept out of the way in the initial outburst of commotion, also surprised that Desmond had shown up as he did. Desmond came up to Walt and commented,

"It's great to see you again Walt, I never should have left you behind. I don't know how you did it, but I got your message in a dream."

Walt didn't understand. "You were meant to leave me behind. I forgot to tell you the bearing to return to that island, it's 305 degrees, not 325, or the opposite, 145. But I didn't send you a message."

"But it was rather vivid. You were tied up and hanging by your hands in a cage in nothing but a grass skirt, and told me to sail south toward Fiji, bring all the medical equipment I could and three satellite telephones."

"That did happen to me, but I didn't … oh, I know it was Jacob. He has a way of communicating through dreams."

"Well, however it was done, it worked." Then Desmond noticed something amiss. "Hold on, you can't be the same Walt. You're definitely years younger."

"I know. This is how old I should be today. That other me was from the future, and it's like he doesn't exist anymore, but I have his memories. That other future may not exist for anyone."

Desmond shook his head, figuring he'd never understand this fully. Then he commented, "Is this your father? What happened to him?"

"Yes. After we all got out of the plane, he went back to save my dog. Vincent was in a cage that was trapped underneath the wreckage. Dad pulled the cage out just in time, but then there was a big explosion and fireball, and he got burned real bad."

"I'm sorry about that. I wish there was something I could do."

Walt suddenly remembered his mission was not over.

"There is. You can take me back to that island. There're a few people I have to get off still. Once I do that, everything will be fine, and that island will never bother anyone who doesn't belong there again."

Desmond was taken aback. "You can't really want to go back there after all that …"

Walt's face showed he was deadly serious.

Desmond turned to Jack. "Did you hear what he suggested? What do you think?"

Jack got up once he had dressed Michael's wounds.

"There was a time I would have thought that was nonsense, but since my experiences on that island, I must ask that you do as Walt says. I don't know if Michael here will pull through, but I am sure his best chance is for Walt to execute his plan. Are we all in agreement?"

Those around who knew Walt and Jack nodded.

"Let me come with you," said Sawyer.

"Thanks for the offer, but it will only work if I do it alone," replied Walt. I'm the only one who can turn that donkey wheel."

Sawyer scowled, but realized this was his best chance of seeing Juliet again.

Desmond then asked, "Wheel? I thought you wanted me to take you to that island, pick up these friends, and take you back here."

"No," answered Walt, "We'll be leaving the way I came. I now know why I asked for three phones in your dream. One for you, one for the people staying on the beach here, and one for me. The Island will move through time and space, and that way it will be kept safe. I don't know where we'll come out. The other side was in Tunisia once, and then in Chad, so it might move again, and we can use the phone to tell you where we end up. Otherwise all this stuff could happen all over again."

Desmond sensed that Walt was right. "When do you have to do this?"

"Jacob said within forty-two hours of the crash, so we better get going right away."

Which they did. Once on board, Desmond introduced Walt to Penny. Penny's expression was one of shock.

"Oh you poor thing, did your clothes get ruined in the crash? Let's see if there's a robe or something we can give you."

Walt chuckled. "That's not necessary. I had a skin rash, and I don't think I still have it, but I'd rather be safe. Besides, I'll be doing a little swimming, and I'm sure this is how Jacob wants me to do what I have to."

Walt relayed his story to Desmond and Penny as they went back to the original island. Somehow it wasn't visible until they approached it at the 305 degree bearing. Desmond gave Walt a waterproof bag for the satellite telephone, and a strap so Walt could carry it around his shoulder while swimming and wading. They arrived half an hour before dusk. Walt jumped into the water and paddled the short distance to the southeast shore. Once on dry land, he tested the phone.

"I'm on the island now, and everything's okay."

"My phone's working fine, and we're on our way back," answered Desmond.

"Everything's under control here," responded Frank, who as captain of the aircraft insisted on holding onto the only working communication device. "Keep in touch – hold it, this thing says the date is October 31, 2004. That can't be right."

Walt looked at his phone. "That's what mine says. I'll try to ask Jacob about it."

Desmond checked his phone. "Mine says the same thing. I don't understand. We lost 38 or 39 days?" Desmond steered his ship around the island to a point where he could set a course for 325 degrees.

With an excellent knowledge of the Island's geography, Walt quickly made his way to Danielle's bunker. He avoided the traps, and got close as the sun was setting. He took the strap off his shoulder, and took the phone out of the waterproof case in order to make another call, when he heard a threatening voice.

"Who goes there?!"

Walt heard a rifle cock, and realized something might not be right. He set the phone down next to a tree, put his hands in the air, and in a soft voice answered,

"Danielle, it's Walt. I've come to bring you to Alex and get off this island."

Danielle emerged from behind some trees with her rifle pointed at Walt's chest. She looked at the boy carefully. He had the same facial features as the Walt she knew, and was dressed about the same. However, this boy's voice was a bit too high, and more importantly was much too short, and his muscles much less developed. She came to her conclusion.

"You're not Walt! He's a lot older than you. Get on your stomach, now!"

Walt had not been scared of Danielle in a long time, but was too frightened to anything but comply. Nor did he resist when she pulled some rope from her pack and tied his hands behind his back until it was too late. Next she tied his feet together, and then hoisted him over a tree branch so that he was hanging by his knees. Finally she connected his wrists and ankles with one more piece of rope, in effect hogtying Walt around the tree branch, although with his back was only moderately arched.

Walt pleaded his case. "Look I can explain. That other me was from the future, and this is how I look in the present. I came back when my plane almost crashed, and there was this black smoke everywhere. You're supposed to be sane now, so you can understand that."

Danielle was not convinced. "What you say is impossible."

"But I can prove I'm the same person. I remember what we did when I was here. I had to sleep handcuffed to that bed every night. We gathered food, and set traps."

"How did you escape?"

"I managed to find the key you threw and unlocked one of the handcuffs. Then I hopped back to your bunker and got the other keys, and freed myself."

Danielle looked at her long-lost captive, thought it over, and concluded, "That other boy could have told you all that. Both of you are spies, trying to confuse me."

Walt squirmed some, prompting Danielle to scold, "If you get one of those knots undone, you'll fall and break your neck."

"I was … just trying to get more comfortable. Why did you tie me up like this?"

"I don't want you in my home. I'm leaving you here for the black smoke to take you away. Don't ever bother me again."

Danielle turned away and went back to her bunker, leaving Walt dumbfounded and alone in the dark. _This wasn't supposed to happen. She's still insane. _"Say Jacob, what happened? You said you would restore her sanity. Thanks for helping our plane not crash here, but what's going on?"

When there was no answer, Walt reasoned, "I get it, I have to get out of this by myself." Walt worked on freeing his hands, careful to keep his knees hooked around the branch so he wouldn't fall headfirst onto the ground. But there was a big problem: after twisting and squirming for several minutes, he had to conclude the knot was too tight for him to pull his hands free. The knot around his ankles was equally tight, and he couldn't reach that with his hands. Nor could he bend back enough to reach the knot on the third rope by his ankles, or reach the knot on the third rope by his hands. He was stuck.

"Jacob, I really can't get loose. Please help me. Did you have to spend a night like this; is that why you're letting this happen to me?"

There was still no answer. Walt fidgeted some more, and felt light-headed as blood was flowing to his head. In a rather undignified position he passed out.


	40. Final Turn of the Wheel

Those meant to leave the Island make a last trip to the donkey wheel.

* * *

Jacob's voice permeated Walt's subconscious.

"You have done very well, Walter."

"Huh? What happened?" Walt was in a fog. He couldn't see or move.

"You have altered the course of your history. Henceforth events shall be as they were meant to be."

"But … but … why am I here? Danielle … she's still … "f

"There was much work for me to do the past few weeks. She will be sane in the morning."

"Good. There was something else … the date? What was that about?"

"It took time to arrange everything. One event is that Ji Yeon must have been conceived exactly as before, and that took place on October 30. The time had to be set after that date. Also, Claire's baby is due shortly. That child must be raised by Claire."

"Is there anything else?"

"You still have to turn the donkey wheel with your friends holding onto you. Give it one complete rotation clockwise. This will send the Island 108 years into the future, keeping it safe for more than a century. In that time, we can hope the human condition improves to the point where its resources may be utilized appropriately.

John Locke will become the new leader of the Island's inhabitants. Richard has earned a well-deserved break from the task. Rose and Bernard will remain on the Island. Rose's cancer cure will be completed, and the two of them wish nothing more than to spend the rest of their lives together.

You will be transported eight days into the future. Tell your friends to expect you near sixteen degrees north latitude, four degrees west longitude. The precise spot is near there, but its exact location must be kept secret until after the transportation. Farewell Walt, you have done our family line well."

That night, Jacob paid Ben a visit in the latter's dream.

"Benjamin Linus!"

"Wh – who – Jacob?"

"It is time to face your judgment."

"You – you are really speaking to me?"

"Yes. Now listen. You are found guilty of the kidnapping of Alex Rousseau. You must agree to the following. You shall let her go via the portal with Karl, Danielle, Juliet, and Walt. Furthermore, you shall accept John Locke as the new leader of the Island. Failure to comply will result in this scene, which will haunt you forever."

The image of Alex being shot by Keamy, Widmore's psychotic mercenary, flashed through Ben's mind. The younger version of Ben had not experienced the event that would take place a few weeks' hence if history were to play out unchanged.

Ben woke up screaming. "I'll do it!" he shouted. "I can't let that happen to Alex!"

* * *

On the morning of November 1, 2004, John Locke woke up lying on the ground in the middle of the Others' village. It took a few minutes for his brain to process everything, but then he had total recall of the events of the three-plus years that were being wiped out. He got to his feet, confidant that he had the ability to walk, strode up to Ben's house, and knocked. When Ben answered, Locke greeted him.

"Good morning, Benjamin. Do you know who I am?"

Ben sighed. "Yes, John, I know who you are. Welcome to our humble village."

"Thank you. I believe that you have an urgent order of business to attend to."

"Yes, I understand. I'm not very big on good-byes."

"Then I suggest you make it quick."

"Very well." Turning inside the house, Ben called out, "Alex, would you please come here?"

Alex came quickly. "What is it, Father?"

"You don't have to call me that any more. I'll get straight to the point. This is good-bye. Take whatever you want to bring in a backpack. This gentleman here will escort you, Karl, and Juliet to the Orchid, where you will meet your mother. You four will be taken off this Island by Walt. You must hurry; you have to be there before sunset."

Alex was surprised this was so easy. "That's it? It's all true? That woman is my mother, and you aren't my ..."

"Yes, it's true. Now please go; you weren't meant to live on this Island. I'm sorry for whatever pain I've caused you. I hope you have a happy life in the outside world."

"All right then, good-bye." Alex didn't have much to take with, just a few clothes, pictures, and some food and water for the day-long journey. A few minutes later she told Karl, and then Juliet the news, and then they were off following Locke to the Orchid.

* * *

That same morning Danielle woke up confused at first, and then her mind cleared. She remembered the events of the previous evening, and alarmed, ran to where she had left Walt. She was horrified to find him hanging by his knees from a tree branch, hogtied, and unconscious.

"Walt, wake up!" She slapped his face lightly, but Walt didn't respond. Danielle cut the rope binding his wrists to his ankles while holding onto him enough to lower him gently to the ground on his stomach. She cut the ropes tied around his wrists and ankles, turned him over, and poured water on his face.

Walt choked and coughed. "Oohhh, everything hurts."

Danielle was greatly relieved. "Hold still, I'll fix you up." Danielle got Walt to sip some water, and then raced back to her bunker, and got some natural medicine of her own creation, extracted from the native plants. She raced back, flipped Walt over again, and worked the ointment into his badly aching shoulders, back, and legs. Several minutes later Walt was breathing more easily.

"That's much better. I think I can stand." Walt pushed himself slowly off the ground, got to his knees, and then his feet. He took a few uncertain steps, and then some more certain ones. "I'm okay."

"I'm so sorry I did that to you, I don't know what to say."

"It's all right; you weren't responsible for your actions. What's important is that you helped me now, and that we have to get to the Orchid to meet Alex and get off this Island."

"Alex … off the island … I don't remember everything … is this really true?"

"Yes, Alex is on this Island, we have to meet her at this building by sunset. There will be a couple other people with her, her boyfriend and another woman who needs to go home and be near family."

Danielle looked into Walt's eyes, and could tell he was telling the truth. As corroboration, his heart plainly beat steady and true. Danielle's memory of the time she kept Walt captive was coming back to her.

"You look good in that loincloth, but let me make some clothes that will fit you."

"That's all right; we don't have time to waste. Just bring some food and water and we have to get going. It will take all day to get there."

"Well, if you're sure. I feel so bad that I kept you in handcuffs wearing only that grass skirt for so long."

"It's not a problem. Oh, I remember, I should make a phone call. I have to contact the people from my airplane."

Danielle went back to her bunker and gathered enough food and water for a day-long hike. Walt pushed some buttons and made the call.

"Hello?"

"Hello Walt? It's Jack here. We were worried about you last night."

"Hi Jack. Yeah, I got tied up, but I'm fine now. Danielle's okay and we're going to the Orchid now. How's Dad?"

"His burn wounds are healing faster than I've ever seen before. He should be all right in a few days. The American Coast Guard arrived a few minutes ago and they're loading up the passengers."

"Great! And Vincent?"

"He's been standing guard around your father most of the time. His fur was slightly singed, but no big deal."

"Great again. Listen, Jacob told me that someone should meet us at sixteen degrees north latitude, four degrees west longitude in eight days. That sounds like the Sahara Desert again, probably Mali or Niger. The wheel is going to send us into the future a little, and the Island a lot, 108 years. Actually we'll be a little ways from there, for some security reason. Also, today is November 1 because Sun's baby had to be conceived the same way. And Claire is supposed to raise her own baby."

"Claire is in labor, and should give birth any time now."

"I guess you'll have to say hello to Aaron for me. Oh, are Desmond and Penny back?"

"Yes, they're fine, and concerned about you."

"I'm sure I'll be okay now. We got to go now. Bye."

Danielle returned with her pack, and they set off. "Walt, for a while I thought that you were a figment of my imagination. You made it look like no one else had been around."

"Yeah, I tried to do that because of your condition, and I didn't want you following me. But what changed your mind?"

"There was a boar in a position that would have been difficult for me to drag it to, and I believe the remains of your grass skirt nearby. I couldn't be sure, though. So what did you do after you escaped?"

"Oh, yeah, that skirt ripped off while I was trying to get the key for one of the handcuffs. I felt miserable at the time, but looking back it's almost funny. It took hours to get the one key, and then I hopped back to your place to get the others. I dragged you back on the sled, and ran off, afraid you'd wake up. This Jacob spirit then saved me from a polar bear, and had me go on a walkabout for forty or forty-one days. He turns out to be an ancestor of mine, and made sure I went through a lot of the experiences he did. I finally made another grass skirt and tried to leave, but was captured by some of the Others. But I saw Alex there, and she's very anxious to meet you.

Jacob did some more stuff, messing with people's minds, and the leaders realized I had to leave. Jacob was a slave brought over on the Black Rock, which our airplane crashed into this time, with the older me chained up inside. I think I was wearing the same loincloth then, one like Jacob had when he came here, and I have to leave this Island the same way.

I woke up on the plane, and it crashed on another island not too far away, and Desmond, the guy I had been living with in a hatch before I ran into you, brought me back here. This is all part of Jacob's plan. After we leave, the Island will be sent 108 years into the future, and there won't be any more problems at least until then."

"That's quite a story," remarked Danielle. "Thanks for making me feel better about the way I treated you."

Ten hours later, Locke, Alex, Karl, Juliet, Danielle, and Walt met at the Orchid. Upon seeing each other, Danielle and Alex ran toward each other and embraced. Danielle was weeping almost uncontrollably, and tears moistened Alex's eyes.

"Never saw Alex cry before," remarked Karl to Juilet.

"Alex, Alex, after all these years …" Danielle couldn't stop crying.

"Mother, I …" words would come later. They were both far too emotional to speak coherently.

While the younger versions of Locke and Walt hadn't met, they knew there was an important connection between them. Locke hugged Walt briefly, and congratulated him.

"I understand all that you went through. Job well done. You have saved the world."

"I think that's giving me too much credit. And it wouldn't have worked without you. I never even would have got back to the Island; I'd have been buried or died of thirst in the Sahara."

"It's not giving you too much credit at all. You may have needed some help, but no one else could have accomplished what you did. The world will be eternally grateful to you."

"I still think you're exaggerating, but I know you'll be a great leader of this Island for a long time. Now I think we have to hurry."

"Actually, if it's forty-two hours from the time of the crash, you have seven hours left, but there's no need to wait till the last second. May as well do this while there's still light. And … you might get cold down there dressed like that."

"Don't worry, Jacob wants it like this. I'm leaving the way he came in. But there is time for a phone call."

Walt took the satellite phone and called again. This time Michael answered.

"Walt! How are you?"

"Dad! I'm good, what about you?"

"They say I'll be fine in a few days. We're all back in the states now, just landed in Los Angeles. Jack says I need to rest, so good luck, and I'll see you in a few days. I love you."

"I love you too, Dad."

The group then went down the elevator to the antechamber of the frozen donkey wheel. A blast of frigid air greeted them as the lift doors opened. Walt handed Juliet the satellite phone and ran to the wheel, shivering along the way. He seized one spoke of the wheel, as Danielle, Alex, Karl, and Juliet each put a hand on one of his arms. Locke stood back, watching. Walt pushed hard, and the wheel offered substantial resistance. He doubled and redoubled his efforts, finally managing a quarter turn.

"Can you take a break?" asked Juliet.

"No, once I've started I can't stop."

Walt persevered, wondering why the wheel was sticking more than the last time. Another quarter turn and he was panting for breath, his slender chest rising and falling rapidly. Then it hit him – he was a skinny ten-year-old boy instead of the significantly more developed one closer to fourteen who had turned the wheel five months before.

"Arrgh!" Walt strained more and more, ramming the spoke with his shoulder. The perspiration he worked up counteracted the freezing cold to some degree. Beads of sweat rolled down his body, but it felt like those caught inside his loincloth turned into ice chips. Another quarter turn, and Walt grunted loudly between his chattering teeth. With extraordinary determination, again and again he threw his body at a spoke. He felt like he was on the verge of passing out when the wheel completed its full rotation. Instantly the air became warmer, but was still on the nippy side.

A ladder was now visible. Still shivering, Walt climbed it, and tried to push open a lid at the top, but it didn't budge.

"Can I help you now?" Karl asked, climbing the ladder after Walt. Karl pushed on the lid, and combined they forced it up and open, and a large amount of sand poured down. Walt scrambled out of the hole and up an embankment of hot sand, and collapsed. After sidestepping the sand, Danielle, Alex, and Juliet climbed up. They joined Walt, resting for several minutes in the desert heat. Nothing but sand was visible in every direction, thought the terrain was hilly. Then Juliet gave Walt the phone back, and asked,

"Are you ready to make another phone call?"

"I think so." Walt punched in the numbers again, and this time Hurley answered.

"Hey little dude! I knew you'd make it!"

"We almost didn't, but … where are you?"

"The question is where are you? What are the coordinates your phone says you're at?"

"Sixteen degrees, eight minutes, forty-two second north, four degrees, fifteen minutes, twenty-three seconds west."

Hurley laughed. "Those numbers aren't going to hurt anyone any more. Think you can manage to walk a mile southwest? We'll meet you there."

"Sure. Over that hill? See you soon."

The group drank some of the water that they had brought, and proceeded to the indicated hill. On this occasion Walt was in better shape than the rest in the searing heat, and he got to the top of the hill first. His jaw dropped as he saw what was on the other side.


	41. Celebration

Walt's friends throw a little party in his honor.

* * *

Walt couldn't believe what he saw from the top of the sand hill. There was a massive celebration in his honor, set up on the outskirts of a town. A large banner read "THANK YOU WALT!" Walt recognized many of the people, and Michael walked as fast as he could. However, Vincent got to Walt first, and knocked him down with a leap. Once Walt got back up, he asked, "Dad, where are we, and what is all this?"

Michael hugged Walt hard. "We're in Mali, just outside Timbuktu, the closest place with an airplane runway. Everyone's memory has been being restored. They all know that the earth was doomed, but you changed its fate. They all know about your travails on that Island, and what you went through. We're showing our gratitude."

Walt was embarrassed. "This is way too much. Is everybody here?"

"Just about. Claire had her baby a week ago, and there was no way she could make a long flight with the infant Aaron. Charlie is staying with them. There'll be plenty of time to visit later. And Nikki and Paolo are in jail. But there is someone else who very much wants to meet you. She's right over there."

Michael pointed at an elderly woman, and Walt exclaimed, "Grandma!"

Walt ran up to Noreen Dawson and let her hug him.

"My baby! … you're so grown … I can't believe this … it's like every day I remembered more and more of living with you, and then you left that note … you're so brave …" and Noreen broke down in tears. It took a couple minutes for her to recover. "I brought you a present to welcome you back to civilization." She gave Walt a box that contained a pair of sneakers, a pair of red shorts, and an "I love New York" tee shirt.

Walt laughed, and put on his new clothes, finally fitting in with the rest of the crowd. "It feels like I haven't worn shoes in ages, but … I guess it was only a couple days. Doesn't matter now."

There were more reunions of sorts taking place at the same time. When Juliet got to the top of the hill, the scene overwhelmed her. She walked down in a daze, when she was grabbed by someone and lifted off her feet.

"I come all this way and this is the greeting I get?" spoken in a Southern drawl.

"Sawyer! I … I can't believe this. I didn't see … you … we …" she hugged Sawyer back and kissed him.

"That's more like it. Now there's someone else who's come to see you." Sawyer carried Juliet the rest of the way to the celebration, and set her down in front of …

"Rachel! You're alive! You came here … and this is Julian!" exclaimed Juliet.

"After what you've been through, this was nothing for us," replied Rachel. "I was sick for a long time, but I'm completely cured now. And so is Julian. Julian, say hello to your Aunt Juliet."

Juliet picked up her little nephew and hugged him. After she put him down, she turned back to Sawyer. "So I guess this means you're ready for a new start?"

"You can say that again."

The sight of so many people overwhelmed Danielle. Alex and Karl walked her to a table at the edge of the proceedings, and brought back food and drink for her. They talked about where they would go to live and what they would do. Danielle suggested that they find out what the research organization for which she had been working when she and her crew had been shipwrecked was up to.

Charles Widmore arrived on his own private jet, and searched for Penny and Desmond until he found them. He steeled himself and spoke.

"Penny, it's wonderful to see you."

"Daddy? Why are you here?"

"I've come to apologize. Desmond, you are a far greater man than I gave you credit for. It is an honor to have you in the family."

Desmond never heard Charles apologize to anyone before. Unsure of what to say, he wasn't about to spoil the celebration. "Thank you, sir."

"I admit that I am not pleased about losing the Island, but can live with the fact that Benjamin Linus is no longer in charge. John Locke is an ideal choice to lead. This experience has changed me. And with the Island a century in the future, I can turn my attention to other matters."

"What matters might those be, Daddy?" queried Penny. "You know we still don't want your money."

"I'm well aware of that, and think highly of you that. Now for one matter, I am making the contents of the journal from the first mate of the Black Rock public. That ledger corroborates Walt's story very accurately. It tells of the shipwreck, the lives of Lucifer and Richard Alpert and Jacob, and of the phenomenal energy source. There is several years' worth of entries, and they filled up all the pages of the journal.

Then I shall devote my remaining years to philanthropy. I have been given a second chance, and will put my fortune to good use. A large part of Widmore Industries will be converted to research laboratories dedicated to finding cures for diseases in impoverished parts of the world."

"Why Daddy, that's … wonderful!"

More passengers greeted Walt. Many of them would continue with their lives as they had expected to, while others' lives would be changed forever. Jack resumed his medical practice in Los Angeles. Enough people had remembered Kate's trial in the years that were no longer happening that is was agreed her sentence of probation should stand, with this one-time exemption to leave the country. Boone returned to be the chief operating officer of the wedding clothing division of his mother's company. Shannon used her part of the Oceanic settlement to enroll in the dance company internship to which she had been accepted. Sun and Jin would return to South Korea to raise their daughter. Jin got a new job as a manger in the fishing industry, while Sun's father eliminated the enforcement division in his firm.

When she heard the news of the impending arrival of the passengers to Los Angeles, Nadia was on hand to meet Sayid. All that mattered to them was being together, and they were happy to perform volunteer work in various parts of the world.

Frank remained a top pilot for Oceanic Airlines. Ana-Lucia returned to her job in airport security. Eko went back to continue as a priest in Australia, very much moved by the island events that often haunted his dreams. After a two-week break, Cindy continued on as a flight attendant. Emma and Zack would live happily in their mother's house, and keep in contact with Walt via electronic messaging.

Widmore's freighter crew never assembled, so Miles and Naomi went about their business as usual. However, Daniel had enough of his memory intact to track down and locate Charlotte. With the chain of island events as he knew them broken, he was determined not to lose her now.

All of a sudden Walt's stomach growled. "I wouldn't mind having something good to eat." He and his father and grandmother went to a large banquet table, where Hurley and Libby were serving a wide variety of tasty food.

"Walt, I don't know that you ever met Libby," Hurley stated.

"No, I haven't really. Just saw you at the crash. Pleased to meet you." Walt felt awkward, aware of what Michael had done to her in that other reality.

Libby could tell Walt felt uncomfortable, and reassured him, "Don't worry about. Hurley and I actually met in the Santa Rosa Institute. I don't mind talking about it now; I was there for serious depression. But that's all in the past, and that's over. Hurley and I are now dating." She winked at Hurley, who smiled in return.

After they were served and sat down at a table, Walt asked, "Dad, where are we going to live?"

"We have a nice house in New York with a yard big enough for you and Vincent to run around in. It's not too large, fitting in with the neighborhood. We got a nice settlement from the airline for the crash, and I got a buyer for many of my drawings."

"Really? That's great. Who is it?"

Michael laughed. "It's Hurley. I believe he overpaid, and that could be his way of making good on that backgammon debt that might have happened. He also told me he feels his money is no longer cursed, and donating millions to charities benefitting children all over the world. Anyway, we have enough that I'll be able to work on my art full-time."

"I can't wait to see it, and finally settle down and get back to normal."

"It won't be normal for a while yet. There're making plans for a tickertape parade for you in New York when we get back."

Walt groaned. "I don't want a parade. I just want a normal life."

"Well, if that's what you want, we don't have to have the parade. But I'm afraid you're going to be a big celebrity for a while. We have a little task for you when you're done eating."

A short time later, they went up to an object covered by a large sheet. Walt pulled it off, and recoiled in laughter when he saw what it was covering. It was a basalt statue of himself, larger than life. Just about two meters high, the likeness was clad in a loincloth and had its arms reaching up and out in a welcoming gesture. "They made a statue of me? That's awesome."

"Not just one statue, but there are dozens around the world."

"What? Do they all look like this?"

"No, there are different poses and local variations. The one in Chad has the older version of you in their native skirt, and I'm sure there are some with grass skirts in the Pacific Islands. And in Madame Tussaud's wax museum in London, they made a replica of part of the Black Rock with you, or maybe Jacob, in chains. It's become a historic event of great magnitude. Several people on our flight heard your telling your story, and word got around fast. Some were afraid you wouldn't make it back, and felt compelled to honor you immediately. But I knew you would make it."

"I almost didn't, but … oh, it doesn't matter. But really, I'd just be fine getting started in school."

"There's no rush for that. You have a reservation to stay in a spa for a week. We have to make sure everything is okay with you; with what you went through on the Island the last couple days."

"I guess I can live with that. I'm a little sore from pushing that wheel and sleeping hanging from my knees hogtied last night, but I'm sure I'll recover."

"You can't do anything the easy way, can you?"

"I guess that happens when you're special."

The day wound down, and the celebration ended. Everyone boarded an airplane that took them home for real.

* * *

Author's notes: I thank those readers who have supported me throughout this story. I can't imagine writing anything so long again; it's been quite a lot of work, and hope the effort has been worth it. Take care,

hjr


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